


Falling 4 You

by HighlandRose



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Dead Money references, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, F/M, Fallout New Vegas references, Fights, Jealousy, Minor drunken flirting, Slow Build, Travel, fallout 3 references, hidden identity, remembering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlandRose/pseuds/HighlandRose
Summary: Bryleen Eleonora “Nora” McClaren woke up eight months ago to find her husband Nate murdered and her infant son Shaun missing. In those months since she discovered that she was the sole survivor of her vault, she has become the General of the ragtag Commonwealth Minutemen, an Agent of the mysterious Railroad, and a Knight in the recently arrived Brotherhood of Steel. As Nora the lawyer from Sanctuary Hills fades away and Bryleen the wasteland warrior takes hold, she is left disheartened and confused about what she really wants.After Goodneighbor’s favorite mayor comments on her choice of companion, Bryleen finally steps back and takes a look at her lonely lifestyle. Maybe it’s time to find a person to travel the Commonwealth with, someone to trust. But who can she risk her safety on, and possibly even her heart?
Relationships: Robert Joseph MacCready/Female Sole Survivor
Comments: 26
Kudos: 44





	1. In Good Company

**Author's Note:**

> Let me start by saying, I do not own any of these characters. This is a fan fiction based on my play through of Bethesda’s Fallout 4, so I do use in game dialogue as well a characters from the game. By the time this fic starts, my female sole survivor was already at a decent level, and already established with several of the in game factions. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with my choice of factions, but there are many ways to play the game, and this is my personal play through.

“What would the shroud be without his faithful friend Rhett Reinhart?” Bryleen’s Shroud voice was deep and grating, and she hoped that she’d be done with this farce soon because damn it was killing her throat. Kent rewarded her with a big weary smile.

“This-. This means a lot to me.” The naïve ghoul admitted, with the faintest hint of blush creeping into his radiation-warped cheeks. “I’m gonna need some time. To heal you know? But then I got a special project in mind just for you. I’ll fire up my radio station if I make any progress.” With that, Kent gave one last nod to his hero and began walking his bruised up self back to his room in the Memory Den. Hancock and Bryleen collapsed on the couches across from each other, and when the door downstairs closed behind Kent, Hancock began to slowly clap.

“Way to go sweetheart.” That sarcasm from anyone else would have rubbed on her nerves, but coming from Hancock it made her smile. “Bless his little shriveled heart, I think you just made his decade.” A warm laugh crept up her throat and she savored it as it filled the room; not much gave her cause to laugh these days.

“Oh shut up Hancock.” She took off the costume hat and threw it at his face, making Dogmeat rise from his spot on the floor and jump at the ghoul. Bryleen realized the behavior for what it was, but Hancock cringed back on the couch, black eyes going wide when the German Shepard snapped his teeth and let out a booming bark.

“Call off the beast sweets!” Knowing full well that he wasn’t in any danger at all, Bryleen let him squirm a little more while she took of the stifling overcoat. Many people were pretty scared of her furry companion, but she loved him to death. If she hadn’t found him all those months ago at the Red Rocket station, she knew she probably wouldn’t have made it very far.

“Dogmeat come here.” Ears perked, Dogmeat whined a little as if he were disappointed that Hancock wouldn’t play with him, but he gave up and came back to his mistress’s side. On her knees, she scratched into his deep fur, drawing out happy woofs from him. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a big fluffy baby?” Usually she only did this when no one was watching, but Hancock wasn’t a risk to her reputation, so she felt free to give Dogmeat all the affection he wanted.

“You’re certifiable kid.” Hancock got up to get a drink and to hand her the hat back, but kept his eyes locked on her dog. It never ceased to amaze her how many people couldn’t see that Dogmeat was just as soft as his owner. Sure they both looked intimidating in their armor, but fighting is the last thing either of them wanted to do. Their best days in the Commonwealth were spent curled up on a couch together while Bryleen absentmindedly scratched Dogmeat as she read one of the few preserved books she had left. Those days were few and far between, but like the stars, they were bright spots in her otherwise dark life. “So what are you up to now? What’s gonna stack up to a caped crusader adventure?” Truth be told, she hadn’t given her next big move much thought. After traipsing the Commonwealth dressed like a hero, ridding the ruins of crime, everything else paled in comparison. More than that, she needed a break. The fast paced lifestyle she was forced to live since exiting the vault was wearing her down, washing away the woman she thought she was and replacing her with someone she could hardly recognize. She wasn’t meant to be a fighter, a warrior in more causes that she could keep track of.

“Not sure Mayor.” Hancock had been watching the lady play with her dog, looking closely as her playfulness slowed and the smile on her face faded while she was stuck in her own head. He’d gotten the impression in his time around her that she was different than the average drifter. She was tough as an assaultron when she needed to be, but mostly she stuck to herself, trying to avoid any confrontation. Seeing her on the floor with her only companion, he was getting the distinct vibe that maybe this badass might be lonely.

“You ever thought about traveling with a person?” Jolted from her thoughts, Bryleen looked up at him for a long moment before shaking her head.

“I don’t think I could trust anyone to watch my back,” she chuckled, and she wasn’t lying; most everyone she’d met in the wastes would gladly kill her if they could profit from it. “Dogmeat doesn’t have thumbs so at least I know he won’t rob me blind.” Hearing his name, Dogmeat barked again, making Hancock flinch just a smidge. Yeah, a dog was the most loyal companion she could hope to find in this new and dangerous world.

“Just a thought. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to a pretty gal like you.” She was used to his light flirting by now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still capable of making her blush. One drawback of being pre-war was that she did happen to look different than the Commonwealth residents. Two hundred years was a long time for genetics to change, not to mention the effects of the hard life and radiation that they had to deal with. She felt guilty for her youthful appearance, especially when seeing ghouls from her time, but there wasn’t much she could do about that, so she tried not to think of it.

“One of these days Hancock someone’s going to take your flirting seriously and then you’ll be a kept man.” Her teasing made him laugh from somewhere deep inside, and Bryleen started to realize just how much she missed having someone to laugh with, to just talk to. Maybe Hancock had a point; maybe she should look into getting a companion, but was there anyone she could trust?

“That’ll be the day!” He barked out past his laughter. “If I ever find a woman who’s willing to settle for a chemed up ghoul, I’ll-. Well hell I don’t know what I’ll do, but damn it all, it’ll be memorable.” Hancock wasn’t a bad guy; morally gray sometimes, but not bad. He’d offered to go with her at one point, but he knew she didn’t really approve of his chem use and she was a bit too straight-laced for him, so they kept their relationship limited to a friendly conversation whenever she popped into town.

“I’ve got to stop by Daisy’s shop real quick, and then I think I’m going to go search for my next adventure.” Though she attempted to keep her voice light, she couldn’t hide her melancholy from Hancock completely. He offered her a sympathetic smile and a hearty pat on the shoulder.

“Just stop by the next time you come this way. Some of the shit you do…well it’s a lot more entertaining than anything that happens here.” Bryleen returned the pat, unable to give a realistic smile, and began her walk down the spiral stairs. _Poor kid_ , the mayor thought to himself.

“She’s going to burn out.” Fahrenheit, who had to this point remained quiet, quipped when she was certain she wouldn’t be heard. It wasn’t like she was wrong, but something about that rubbed Hancock the wrong way.

“Nah. She’s a fighter. She’ll make it.” As much of a do-gooder as she was, he could see that somewhere inside she was capable of doing whatever she needed to do to survive. Yeah, she’d be alright.

***

Coming out of the Old State House with Dogmeat trailing after her, Bryleen was finally able to take a deep breath. Damn, the wasteland stunk. There was the musky stench of urine, the bitter smell of smoke, and the sharp metallic aroma of gun powder from Kill or Be Killed on the corner. There were hardly any places left in the Commonwealth that were at least relatively clean, something that she lamented more than she liked to admit. Since there was nothing she could do about it here, she kept her breathing shallow and walked over to Daisy’s Discounts to let Daisy know that she’d finished up at the library.

“You’re back. How’d it go at the library?” Daisy put her cleaning rag down, and blew an errant strand of hair from her face. “Get rid of those Super Mutants?” It made Bryleen’s heart happy to see Daisy’s face light up with hope.

“Let’s just say those mutants have a new appreciation for the Dewey Decimal System.” The fight at the Boston Public library had been one of the toughest she’d undertaken so far; outmatched by Super Mutants twenty-to-one, she’d been more than a little worried that she wouldn’t make it out of there alive, but she’d surprised herself by plowing through the green giants.

“Filed them under the history section, huh?” A little cackling chuckle snuck out of the ghoul, and Bryleen couldn’t help but join in. “Ooooh. There’s some poor librarian out there that’s going to haunt me for that pun…” After their mirth subsided, Daisy set her hands back on the counter, back to the business at hand. “Okay, jokes aside. You did good. Warms this creaky heart a little to know that library is a bit more peaceful.” She rummaged under the counter for a moment before finding what she was looking for. The familiar clinking of caps made Bryleen raise her hands and back away a little.

“I didn’t do this for money, Daisy.” Caps were what made this world go round, but she considered Daisy a friend, and she didn’t charge friends. Like most wastelanders, Daisy was stubborn, and pushed the cap bag across the counter to her.

“Take it. You did this old girl a favor, and I want you to know that I don’t take it lightly.” With one more little nudge of the bag, Daisy drew her arms back and waited. Torn between taking the payment and leaving it there, Bryleen could see how earnest Daisy was, and she didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so reluctantly, she accepted the caps and put them away in her pack.

“Thank you.” They fell quiet until Dogmeat woofed softly at Daisy, waiting none too patiently for whatever treat was waiting for him.

“We can’t forget you now, can we?” A chunk of brahmin meat was tossed over to him and he happily chewed it up. Both women watched him savor his treat, but when Daisy looked at Bryleen, she could see her the wheels in her head turning. “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh it’s nothing, just something Hancock said.” Why couldn’t she get it out of her head? For the past eight months, she’d done just fine traveling with just Dogmeat, and now just because Mayor Hancock had brought it up she was questioning that?

“Men. I swear most of them could use a good kick in the pants.” She knew Hancock. No one lived in Goodneighbor as long as Daisy and didn’t know that Hancock sometimes let his mouth get the better of him. “You want me to talk to him?” They had a long history between them, and Daisy was sure he’d listen to her about laying off the new kid in town.

“No, Daisy, you don’t need to. It wasn’t like that.” In no way had he hurt her; she was doing it herself. Work had been non-stop for so long, that this was the first time she’d really stepped back to examine how lonely she’d become, how much she missed her family.

“We’re all women here, except for Dogmeat. If you wanna talk about it, I’m sure he wouldn’t tell anyone.” As if to prove her point, Dogmeat turned away from them and laid down as if trying to give them privacy. “See? Even he thinks you should talk it out.” Having Daisy to talk to was probably for the best; not only was she a woman, but she was pre-war, so she might think about things differently than the other wastelanders. What did Bryleen have to lose by confiding in her? 

“Hancock asked me if I’d ever thought about traveling with a person, and that just got me thinking.” Did that make her weak, needing someone? In this new world, she wasn’t Nora the lawyer from Sanctuary Hills anymore, she was Bryleen, the General of the Minutemen, Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, and Agent of the Railroad; she was supposed to be this fearless and hardened paragon of chivalry and virtue, but often times she was terrified. How quickly would she get torn to pieces if people saw through her thin façade?

“The open road can get pretty lonely when you’re walking by yourself.” Daisy sighed, like it was a truth that weighed on her.

“I’m not _really_ alone.” Dogmeat hadn’t left her side for her entire time in the Commonwealth. A heavy eye roll came her way from behind the counter, and she knew she was being deliberately obtuse. Was it a crime to not want to come right out and say that she was lonely?

“Oh I’m sure that you and Dogmeat have some stimulating conversations.” The heavy shroud of sarcasm Daisy laid on her words had Bryleen cringing sheepishly. Damn if the woman wasn’t going to drag it out of her like a bad tooth. Instead of beating around the bush some more like she would have been comfortable with, Bryleen drew in a bolstering breath and laid her palms on the counter.

“Okay Daisy, you’re right,” she said quietly as if someone was trying to listen in on her confession, “I _am_ lonely.” With the words out, she felt a little better, but it was precious little. Now that the words were out in the open, they held much more gravity and she didn’t know what to do to fix things. It was one thing to admit it in her head, but voicing them had a way of making it too real.

“There now, was that so hard?” That earned a scowl because Daisy was starting to sound like a mother scolding her child. Even before the Great War, Bryleen hadn’t been one for sharing her feelings, even with her husband. Nate had been annoyed to no end that she didn’t like to talk about what was bothering her; it was always a bone of contention in their marriage that she’d tried to work on.

“It’s just much safer to travel with Dogmeat. People around here aren’t exactly trustworthy.” Not only that, but if she traveled with someone, she ran the risk of getting close to them, which meant opening herself up to the loss of yet another person she was close to. If she were to find a man to travel with… She shuddered to think of the implications of _that_. There was no way to know exactly when it had happened, but to _her_ Nate had only been gone for eight months. He’d died in front of her when she was helpless to do anything to stop the bastards who’d done it, and to even think about romance so soon after his passing felt like a major betrayal of his memory.

“You’ve got a point there,” Daisy conceded, but she wasn’t about to drop it entirely. “I might know a solution to your problem.” A disconcerting smile crept onto her face, and Bryleen had the distinct feeling that this woman was plotting something. It was best to hear her out, but Bryleen was quickly becoming nervous. To be anything more than a travel companion to a man right now would

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Her mouth had gone a bit dry, so the words creaked out like a rusty door hinge.

“Nonsense. Down in the VIP section of The Third Rail there’s a merc named MacCready who’s for hire.” Yes, this was absolutely perfect. If this vaultie hired Mac, it could very well kill two birds with one stone.

“What’s the catch?” For hire meant that she’d have to shell out caps for the merc to join her, but then again, she had a large stash since she didn’t use them for trade, so money wasn’t exactly an issue.

“He’s got a bit of a troubled past, but he’s a straight shooter just trying to make a living now.” _He_. That caught Bryleen’s attention and made her blood chill in her veins. Of course it would be a man… It was just her luck. “MacCready’s honest, and he’ll be straight with you if you’re straight with him. I’ve known him for a while, and I’m throwing in a good word for him.” Honesty was a bit of a luxury these days, so that would be welcomed, but he was still a man. Maybe it wouldn’t matter to anyone else, but it worried her. Who knew, maybe he wouldn’t be attractive; so far she hadn’t stumbled across anyone in the Commonwealth who’d caught her eye, so maybe he wouldn’t be any different. Or maybe he’d be a complete asshole who she couldn’t stand to travel with.

“What kind of past are we talking about?” She had enough targets on her back, and it wouldn’t be very helpful to have a companion with more than their fair share too.

“Now that you’ll have to ask him yourself. I consider you a friend, but he’s my friend too, and it’s not my place to go giving out personal information.” She was reading the apprehension on Bryleen’s face like a book. Reaching out, she pat the young woman’s hand in reassurance. “Just go talk to him. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, you don’t gotta hire him, but at least give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.” Somewhere deep in those emerald eyes, Daisy could see a glimmer of something that reminded her a lot of MacCready; if they could both put aside some of their stubbornness, she could see them working very well together.

“The Third Rail, you said?” Her heart was beating a little faster, knowing what she was about to do, but she squashed her nerves. _Just treat him like a business partner_ , she chastised herself. A travel companion didn’t mean anything special; she’d have someone to watch her back, and maybe share a conversation with, but they didn’t have to be more than that.

“Yeah, in the back VIP room. You’ll know him when you see him.” And just like that, Daisy was back to her scrubbing, leaving Bryleen to her own devices.

“Let’s go Dogmeat.” The faithful German rose up and stretched lazily, coming to her side like the good boy he was. She walked out of the little shop, glancing at the one door out of Goodneighbor. It was so tempting to just walk away, to just leave and not bother with the whole companion thing, but she didn’t take a step towards the exit.

She finally started walking after a few minutes, but now she was walking towards The Third Rail. It was like she’d lost control of her body; before she could second guess herself, she’d already made it through the door, past Ham the bouncer, and down the stairs into the bar. Magnolia’s smoky voice filled the small dive, pairing with the dim lighting to create a sultry atmosphere. Any other day, Bryleen would have loved to sit and listen to a few songs since good music was scarce in the wastes, but she had other business to attend to.

The VIP section was marked by a large sign, one that she’d seen probably half a dozen times, but now it looked different somehow. The once flashy red glow was…luring. Warm and inviting, it said _just live a little; take a chance._

From the corner of her eye, she saw two men, two very rough looking men make their way right where she was headed, and they looked to be doing business too.

“So much for easy.”


	2. Money Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her way to meet MacCready, she finds she's not the only one looking for him... Is this going to be worth the trouble?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the scenes that have in-game dialogue, I will use the complete dialogue from the game for immersion purposes. Being so, I'll give a spoiler warning at the beginning just to cover my bases.

MacCready sat on his old red sofa in the VIP section, just waiting for someone to hire him. After Mayor Hancock had agreed to let him set up shop in Goodneighbor, there had only been a handful of people who sought him out, but that had been a while ago and he was starting to get antsy. 

The sound of footsteps in the short hall to the bar caught his attention. He tried to relax his body, not wanting to seem over eager for a potential client, but as two figures came into view, MacCready felt his every one of his muscles tense. What the fu- heck did it take to get rid of these guys?

“Come to have a drink, or to finish me off?” Winlock and Barnes, massive and intimidating just rolled their eyes at him. After all this time, he could still get under their skin with his antics, and that gave him a little confidence boost. To spite them both, he eased back into the sofa and settled in like he wasn’t bothered by their presence at all.

“Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready.” Compared to the places the Gunners operated out of, this place was a palace. At this point anything with four sturdy walls looked like a palace to him.

“I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock.” Yeah, he knew it was foolish, but he had hoped it would take them a lot longer than this. “It's been almost three months...don't tell me you're getting rusty.” When he ran with the Gunners, it never took them more than a few days to track a target, but that was all due to MacCready; he wasn’t the best tracker, but he was smarter than the average gunner, and that made him valuable. Both of his old ‘colleagues’ didn’t seem to appreciate his levity. “Should we take this outside?” 

“It ain't like that. I'm just here to deliver a message,” Winlock huffed, growing impatient. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out what they were up to, and that made the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

“In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good.” He stood up swiftly, unwilling to literally take what they had to say sitting down. The caps were great when they were rolling in, but after… Well working with the Gunners didn’t sit right with him anymore, so he’d split with what was left of his conscience. Yeah, he was done with the Gunners, but it didn’t look like they were done with him.

“Yeah, I heard.” Crossing his arms across his chest, Winlock growled in annoyance. “But you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn't going to work for us.” No one crossed the Gunners and lived to talk about it, and MacCready was getting the feeling that he wasn’t going to be an exception to that rule. The bossiness in Winlock’s tone and what he was getting at only managed to piss him off.

“I don't take orders from you...not anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can.” Barnes had been quiet standing beside Winlock, but that comment had him pushing forward, puffing up like an angry cat.

“What?! Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit.” MacCready couldn’t tell what had made Barnes madder; being called a woman, or being called Winlock’s woman. Either way, the reaction made him smile.

“Listen up MacCready,” Winlock interrupted, shooting a warning look at Barnes and a scathing look at the little weasel MacCready. “The only reason we haven’t filled your body full of bullets is that we don’t want a war with Goodneighbor.” _Thank God for Hancock_. “See, we respect other people’s boundaries…we know how to play the game. It’s something you never learned.” Oh he knew how to play the game alright, just not by Gunner rules.

“Glad to have disappointed you.” At one point, MacCready had been worried about losing himself to the ways of the Gunners, of becoming cold and calculating like they were. Now it was a point of pride for him that he turned out fine; it was just mildly upsetting to now have a target on his back.

“You can play the tough guy all you want.” Apparently his act hadn’t gone unnoticed. “But if we hear you’re still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?” Dang. Of course it would come to this. Gunner territory was whatever they deemed it; it could spread all the way to the Capital Wastes if that’s what they wanted. The lightness of his cap bag wasn’t the only thing keeping him in their precious territory, but he wasn’t about to open up to them about his problems.

“You finished?” MacCready was most definitely done with this conversation. In all of the commotion, he’d had failed to notice a third person standing partially hidden by the wall. Later, he’d chastise himself for not catching the newcomer, but for now he was distracted by her. She looked like a misfit in mismatched armor, but her face…this lady had to be the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Her hair, which hung to her shoulders, flamed red as a bonfire. Curious green eyes watched the scene, standing in contrast to her creamy and weirdly flawless skin. Everything he saw made him want to go and talk to her; everything but the blue flash of fabric he saw under her armor. Dream girl was a vaultie…

“Yeah…we’re finished.” After a final smirk, Winlock turned to leave. “Come on Barnes.” The two moved towards the door, and ran straight into the girl. _Oh crap_. Gunners weren’t known for their…kindness towards civilian, especially woman, so MacCready edged close to his gun in case he had to step in. Surely Hancock wouldn’t give him the boot if he shot those two goons over this. Winlock raked his eyes over her like she was a hunk of meat, but ultimately kept walking; Barnes on the other hand…

“You looking for MacCready?” His low voice came out like a hiss. “Wasting your time. I could show you what a real man is like.” Barnes’ large body dwarfed hers as he pushed against her, forcing her up to the wall, and the discomfort on her face had MacCready grabbing hold of his rifle. Before he could make a move, he heard the click of a safety button and saw the heavily modded 10mm pistol she had pressed into her harasser’s stomach.

“It’s fully automatic,” the girl said with a soft but authoritative voice, “so unless you want twenty-four new button holes in your jacket with a pull of the trigger, I suggest you leave.” As if to further press her point, an armored dog came up behind Barnes, growling and baring its large teeth for everyone to see. One wrong move and Barnes could lose way more than his pride. His eyes narrowed dangerously, but the woman stood her ground and pressed the gun a little harder just under his rib cage.

“Barnes!” Winlock’s tone was a warning, one that he wouldn’t be repeating. It looked like it worked since not two seconds later Barnes was easing off of her, glaring down at her smaller form.

“I catch you outside that gate and you’re mine,” Barnes sneered before walking out behind Winlock. MacCready had known those guys long enough to know that Barnes was completely serious; his stomach lurched at all the possibilities of what the gunner would do if he got his hands on her. Thankfully, she looked no worse for wear aside from maybe being a few shades paler, but her skin was so fair already it was difficult to tell.

The lady slowly stepped away from the wall, straightening her posture to regain her composure, and probably a bit of her wounded pride. He almost felt sorry for her, for the ugliness that had just happened, but for one, she was a vaultie, and two, she looked completely capable of handling herself. There were plenty of tough women that he’d come across on his travels, but he’d never seen one quite like her; he had a feeling he never would again. _Heck_. It bugged him how she affected him, and he hadn’t even shared two words with her.

“Look, lady. If you’re preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you’ve got the wrong guy,” it came out harsher than he meant it to, so he tried to ease up. “If you need a hired gun…then maybe we can talk.” Even if she could handle herself against Barnes, she looked kind of…helpless in a way. There was just something about her that screamed that she was out of place in the big bad wastes, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

As he sized her up, Bryleen did the same. Daisy had said he was a straight shooter, and she could see that about him. While he’d poked and prodded those two men, he stuck to his guns about not working for the Gunners anymore. The Gunners…that had to be the troubled past Daisy was talking about. If she thought her baggage was heavy, an old connection to the Gunners outweighed hers hand over fist. But the way he’d spoken to her, brusque yet straight to the point, made her think that maybe he was exactly what she needed. No friendly entanglements, just straight forward business.

“Maybe. Why don’t you tell me who those guys were first?” She already knew their names from the conversation she’d eavesdropped on, and the fact that they were assholes as well as Gunners, but she wanted his take on them. A scoff was the first response she got.

“A couple of morons looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on the way up.” A flicker of disgust crossed his face thinking about the shit they’d pulled to go up in ranks. “You shouldn’t be surprised though, that’s how it goes when you run with the Gunners.” Pretty early on, he’d learned that lesson. He’d seen people stab others in the back just to take their spots, and spent his time with them sleeping with one eye open to avoid the same fate.

“Never heard of the Gunners. Who are they?” It wasn’t entirely a lie. In the last eight months she’d killed her fair share of them, but she’d never been able to get close enough to talk to one without weapons or lead being hurled in her direction. From what she’d seen, they weren’t as chaotic and unorganized as the raiders, which probably made them more deadly. Now was her chance to get an insider view of the group.

“They’re one of the biggest gangs in the Commonwealth.” Big in every way that mattered in the wastes; biggest numbers, biggest guns…biggest profits. “Got a rep for being crazy…you know, so tightly wound, you’d think they were a cult or something.” Hearing that seemed to make her tense up, and he knew she was comparing him to them. It made him uncomfortable, and he felt the need to explain it to her. “Stuck with them for a while ‘cause the money was good, but I never fit in. That’s why I made a clean break and started flying solo.” He had the knowhow and the drive to make it on his own, but it was a pain to get out of the shadow of the Gunners. “Now, what about you? How do I know I won’t end up with a bullet in my back?” Bryleen raised an eyebrow at him in vague surprise. _She_ wasn’t the one who was a self-professed ex-Gunner. Even when she’d been hired to ‘take care’ of someone, she’d made sure her target deserved it; everything she’d picked up about the Gunners said they weren’t picky about who they killed, innocent or guilty.

“Are you always this suspicious?” While she fully acknowledged that he had every right to be weary of her -she’d think we was a fool if he wasn’t-, it would get old pretty fast if he questioned her every action they whole time they traveled together.

“Hey you approached me. And frankly, I’m taking a huge risk being out here in the Commonwealth in the first place…so I’m not about to leave anything to chance. Which brings me back to my original question…can I trust you?” If _he_ was worried about trusting _her_ , the Commonwealth was more questionable than she’d ever thought possible. All he’d need to do was ask Hancock about her, or see how she was with Dogmeat to know she was practically harmless unless her hand was forced.

“All I can give you is my word…,” That meant little these days, so she gave him a little smile, and tilted her head in consideration, “and a bunch of caps.” At least that much hadn’t changed. No amount of bombing could break the spirit of capitalism, and Bryleen could tell she’d piqued his interest.

“Bunch of caps, huh? Okay, hotshot. Price is two hundred and fifty caps…up front. And there’s no room for bargaining.” Two hundred and fifty caps? The amount almost made her laugh out loud. Most people would have blanched upon hearing that total, but Bryleen could easily make twice that in a couple days of wandering. Her own cap stash would probably amount to a few family’s life savings, but she wasn’t about to go stupidly flaunting her wealth. Dropping her chin demurely and looking up at him through her thick lashes, Bryleen gave him a half smile that showed her dimple. 

“Everything’s negotiable. Would you take two hundred?” Playing coy was never something she’d done before the war, and she was unsure whether or not she was even doing it now. Being around him truly did make her a little nervous; even though she was determined to not be attracted to him, he was still male, and that made her feel undeniably female; the way she had before the war.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he chuckled, “but you just bought yourself an extra gun.” Maybe he should have stuck to his original price considering the fact that she was a vaultie, but she worked on him with those big green eyes. He pushed that thought aside and told himself it was more money than he anticipated anyways, so that’s why he didn’t have a problem taking it. “Alright boss…let’s get out of here.”

Hesitantly, she took off her backpack and knelt down to dig through it. Since she didn’t want to show him everything that was inside, she had to face away from him, but that just gave him an unavoidable view of her backside. As quickly as she could, she found a little pre-counted bag of caps and slid the backpack back on, hoping he didn’t catch her blushing. Had she looked at his face when she’d handed him his payment, she would have seen that he too wore a pinkish tint on his cheeks.

“There’s two hundred there, but you can count it if makes you feel better.” Dogmeat pushed his nose against her leg to get her attention, and woofed softly in MacCready’s direction. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he was giving his consent for MacCready to follow her. His soft ears twitched beneath his helmet, and she knelt down to scratch them. “We’ve been on the road for a long time buddy.” They’d been all each other had. “I thinks it’s time you got a little rest. When we leave, I want you to go home, maybe see Milou.” Was she really having a conversation with her dog? MacCready had no clue who Milou was, but the big dog seemed to perk up at the name like he understood what she was talking about.

“So what’s on the agenda?” Both owner and dog seemed absorbed in each other, but they looked up at him with twin looks of confusion. “What?” She stood back up and pushed her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t actually have anything planned.” Her brows furrowed, and she looked befuddled, like she couldn’t fathom not having anything to do. As that thought was just beginning to seep in, her Pipboy lit up, and she groaned deep in her chest. “Well that didn’t last long.” There were little popping sounds as she stood up, and he guessed it was her knees. Up close like this, he could see that she couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than him. She was surprisingly clean, and smelled much better than most people he came across; her scent was a faint mix of turpentine, soap, and something…flowery. So different from anyone he’d ever met.

“What does that mean?” MacCready nodded to her Pipboy, unable to keep his eyes from her face. Different emotions flickered across her face; anger, guilt, annoyance, and finally resignation. Her chest rose and fell slowly with a deep sigh, hair cascading into her face as she shook her head.

“That means I have something to do again.” Bryleen was incredulous, angry even. “A settlement is about to fall under attack, and I need to save the day.” The bitterness in her tone was all too obvious to MacCready, but there was something else there; behind the anger laid a thick layer of exhaustion.

“A settlement? Like a Minuteman settlement?” There had been talk around the Commonwealth that the Minutemen were back in business, setting up settlements to build up their forces. MacCready couldn’t fathom how they’d managed it, being all but wiped out at Quincy, but his new boss had just confirmed it.

“The one and only.” Saving the settlements she’d built herself is all she seemed to do. As soon as she started a new task, a settlement needed her help… The annoyance that burned inside her was tempered only by the guilt she felt; they were helpless settlers, depending on the Minutemen to protect them from the harms of the wasteland. Unfortunately, when the Minutemen said that _they’d_ be ready at a minutes notice, they really meant her; Bryleen seemed to be the only one who heeded every beck and call of every settlement she’d built up.

Without further ado, Bryleen walked down the hall, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure MacCready was following her lead, smiling shyly when she saw him a few feet behind her. Ham eyed them curiously as they left, and MacCready figured they were an odd looking pair. He followed behind her, finding it rather difficult to keep his eyes from roaming lower on her person. Seeing the flash of blue again reminded him to keep his distance; in his experience, vaults and anything that came out of them were bad news, no matter how tempting they appeared.

Back out in the commons, Bryleen didn’t stop to talk to anyone, to stop at the vendors, she just rushed towards the front gate. Just before she pushed it open, Hancock strolled out the side door of the Old State House.

“Leaving so soon, sweetheart?” His black eyes roamed over her, the gaze surprisingly lacking any heat; MacCready had expected to see some sort of interest on the ghoul’s face, but all that was there was friendly interest.

“Yes, dear. You know I hate to say hi and bye, but duty calls.” Bryleen winked at Hancock, blowing him an over dramatic kiss, which he pretended to catch. He smacked the ‘kiss’ over his heart, acting as though she’d shot him. His antics made Bryleen laugh out loud, which caught the attention of Daisy, KL-E-O, and some of the Neighborhood Watchmen. A faint blush of embarrassment crept up in her cheeks, but she couldn’t regret the fun little moments they had together. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“Promise me you’ll drop by the next time you’re in the neighborhood, and I’ll try my best.” Hancock leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette that he held between his smiling teeth. “You taking this guy with you?” There was something on his face that told MacCready there was something fishy going on, but he couldn’t figure out.

“Until the caps run dry I guess.” Or until they got into a fight that they couldn’t fix. This business deal was only a few minutes in the making; Bryleen knew it was too soon to pass judgement, but that didn’t stop her from imagining just how this was going to play out.

With a tip of his hat, the mayor pushed off against the wall, walking away. His silence had her wondering, but there was a job to do, and apparently she was the only one who could do it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's already tension... I love MacCready and his sass, but is his wit enough to win Bryleen's good favor? 
> 
> Please, if you liked this, drop a comment and let me know what you thought, and maybe let me know if there are any quests that you loved in the game that you would like to see our wayward pair take on.
> 
> Up next: Another settlement needs your help!


	3. To Serve and Protect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road towards Oberland Station, our reluctant companions get to know a little bit more about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! Trying to be accurate has eaten up a lot of time.

“I uh…I never caught your name.” They’d snuck their way out of the area surrounding Goodneighbor, occasionally running into a group of raiders or super mutants, which they’d slunk past with nary a shot fired. When he asked her why they hadn’t taken care of them, she just said they didn’t need to waste the bullets on them since they would just come back like ants in a few days.

They’d come to the open road, and with no enemies in sight, and she finally relaxed, straightening out her cramping body. For a moment as they walked in silence, MacCready wondered whether or not she’d heard him.

“It’s Bryleen McClaren.” She’d debated endlessly on whether or not to give him her real name. Everyone she’d met so far in the wastes had been told that her name was Nora, the name she’d gone by before the war, and the one that came most naturally to her.

“Bryleen? That’s a whopper.” Her birth name had been too confusing for most people back then, so she shortened her middle name and went by that. Only Nate had acknowledged her first name, and even then, he used Bry, not Bryleen. Thinking of all the arguments she’d had with her mother over her name brought a ghost of a smile to her face.

“Most people just call me Nora.” In the month or so that followed her exiting the vault, she _was_ still Nora; a lawyer from two hundred years in the past, scared shitless, desperately trying to adapt. Once she’d gained a foothold in the Commonwealth with some of the powers that be, Nora slipped away bit by bit, leaving someone she couldn’t even recognize in the mirror; it was only then that she began to think of herself as Bryleen.

“ _Nora_?” What kind of name was Nora? It reminded him of someone’s matronly grandmother from Diamond City, and seemed out of place with someone so…well, _her_.

“Yes, Nora. It happens to be short for Eleonora, my middle name.” MacCready had tried to hold back his laughter, but hearing that made it impossible; she’d only made it worse. His laughter had the opposite effect on her, making her scowl haughtily at him.

“Very nice. And what intriguing name did your parents saddle you with?” With the tables turned on him, MacCready clammed up, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

“Robert Joseph MacCready.” He’d said it quietly, hoping she wouldn’t catch it.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Try as she might, she couldn’t hide the mischievous glint in her eye. Darn it all, she had heard him, but she was determined to make him squirm. He cast a sidelong glance at her, taking in her innocent smile.

“Robert. Joseph. MacCready.” Each word was strained. Odd as it was, he didn’t like talking about his name. Never had. Bryleen’s face fell a bit as she picked up on that.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried.” God, what a great start. Of course she’d fumble their first real conversation. Nauseating anxiety churned her stomach, and she clenched her teeth to keep from making matters worse by saying something stupid or retching her last meal up.

“Hey, it’s fine. I guess we both have things about names.” She stopped walking so suddenly that he almost ran into her back. Whatever was going through her brain must have been pretty intense for the way her brows were knit together, and the way her pearly white teeth worried her full lower lip.

“Can we start over?” If they were going to work together, they needed to start on steady ground, and Bryleen needed to calm the hell down. Letting her nerves take over at every twist and turn was going to just make everything worse, so she wanted to nip that in the bud.

“Uh, sure. If you want to.” There hadn’t been much to restart to MacCready’s mind, but if it made her feel better, why not?

“I’m Bryleen McClaren.” Pushing all nervousness to the back of her mind, Bryleen managed a cordial smile and held her hand out for him to shake. There was a small hint of amusement in the smile he gave, but he took her hand without hesitation.

“R.J. MacCready, nice to meet you.” No trace of sarcasm could be found in his voice, and that surprised her. After hearing his conversation with the Gunners, she’s come to expect it, but his voice was warm and earnest, like he held none of her earlier awkwardness against her. The sensation of his strong fingers curling around hers left her feeling like her bones had melted away. Calluses had long since roughened his hands, scraping gently against her much smoother palm adding to the feeling. How long had it been since she was touched? It wasn’t really something that was thought about when her only goal was to not die, but having this now, she realized just how starved she was for affection. That thought curdled like soured milk as her unspoken promise crept back into her mind.

One handsome man came into her life, and her promise to honor Nate faded away. She dropped his hand fast, hoping that she didn’t seem rude, but needed to regain a safe distance between them. Poor man couldn’t help it if he was attractive, but Bryleen didn’t need to linger on the fact.

“I meant to ask you before I got roped into this, but exactly how long will two hundred caps keep you in my company?” Gravel crunched under her boots as she continued walking towards the helpless settlement. In truth, the settlements called for her before the threat was even close, usually allowing her enough time to get there just as the fight was heating up. Oberland Station had been outfitted with so many turrets and defense posts that there would probably be little for her to do when she got there, but her appearance was needed nonetheless; nothing said ‘the Minutemen have your back’ like having the General show up in the thick of the battle and save the day.

“Most times I’m just hired to take out bas-…guys that other people have problems with. Occasionally I get hired to guard a caravan, but I usually just stick around until I’m not needed or until the caps aren’t worth the hassle.” While it was rare for him to back out of a job, there had been a few times his clients wanted things that just went too far.

“Well then I guess we’ll see just how far the two hundred gets me.” And if they didn’t kill each other by then, maybe she’d consider extending their agreement. Their pace was somewhere north of a wander, but definitely south of a sprint, so to MacCready it looked like they had a while before they reached their destination. Despite his best efforts, is eyes kept meandering to her backside, making him uncomfortable as he appreciated the view. _She’s your BOSS now Mac, no scoping the territory_. In a valiant effort to keep his professionalism intact, he sped up a little to walk at her side and struck up a conversation.

“So where exactly are we headed?”

“Does it matter?” MacCready gave his wiry shoulders a shrug, noting that her voice was void of any negative emotions; she just sounded like she was testing the water between them.

“Not really. You point, I shoot; that was the arrangement.” Nice as it would be to know what sort of situation they were getting into, he didn’t know her well enough to openly question her judgement; besides, how much trouble could one small woman get into? She gave him a little smirk, pleased with his willingness to follow her without question. It wasn’t like she was going to go off and do something insane. Probably.

“There’s a little place northwest of here called Oberland Station. They sent a distress signal, so we’re going to go lend a hand.” The station was one of her smallest settlements in the Commonwealth, so she’d made sure to put up significant defenses around the parameter to compensate for the lack of guards. Small as they were, it was highly unusual for them to signal for her help, so there must have been something serious going down.

Bryleen had come to appreciate those settlements that could handle their issues themselves like Oberland Station and Sanctuary, giving them more favorable attention than ones like Jamaica Plains and County Crossing who called her for every little raider attack. It had been eight months since she’d left the vault, and she’d hardly made any progress towards finding Shaun. Every time she turned around there was another settlement that needed her help, pulling her away from her quest to find her little boy.

“How’d you get roped into helping the Minutemen?” Sarcasm was her knee jerk reaction, but she held herself back. Building a stable work relationship would require her to be honest, and much less sassy than her time in the wastes had conditioned her to be.

“I ran into Preston Garvey a while back when he was in a rough spot.” That had been shortly after she’d left the vault, about a week into her wandering, when she was still raw and vulnerable. When she’d come across what remained of the Minutemen, she’d still been idealistic, not hardened by her harsh reality yet, so she’d blindly helped them out of kindness and concern. Little did she know then that she’d signed away her freedom ‘for the greater good’, but in the moment, it gave her a purpose. “I helped him out, and I guess he took that as a sign that I’d always be available to help out.” Whenever she was critical of the Minutemen, a spearing sense of guilt slashed through her stomach. Preston and the Minutemen meant well, so did that make her an awful person for begrudging her obligation to help them at the drop of a hat?

“Ah, good ol’ Preston.” MacCready signed, giving her a nod of his head in solidarity. Daring a sidelong glance at him, Bryleen felt a heady rush of relief when she saw no judgement on his face.

“I didn’t know mercs had much interaction with the Minutemen.” Truthfully, in all her time with them, she’d never really had a problem with individual players, mostly just groups from the main factions. Raider attacks were most common, followed by super mutants, then Gunners and the rare Yao Guai, but never a one person attack.

“Not me personally, no, but the Gunners…” Regret clouded his voice, crushing all humor that had been there earlier, and Bryleen’s face fell in horror. _We gave the Gunners a hell of a fight, but we never really stood a chance. There were just too many of them and too few of us_.

“Were you there…?” He looked so unassuming now, but nine months ago…had he been capable of massacring a town of civilians? Backing away a bit, she held him with a cautious scowl, waiting for his answer. 

“No.” The sharpness of that one word cut through all her suspicions. “I know you don’t know me from Adam, but believe me when I say, I did everything I could to convince my superiors to leave Quincy alone.” Caps were his one motivating factor in most jobs he took, but no amount of compensation could turn him into a murderer of innocent woman and children. The sting of shame still lingered deep inside, in a place that he could sometimes ignore, but that ate at him none the less.

Lacking a desire to try and salvage their conversation yet again, Bryleen dropped the issue, continuing on to Oberland Station in silence. Crossing over the rugged terrain, they both had time to think over all they’d learned about one another.

For MacCready, he felt…ashamed. Hearing that she actively helped the Minutemen, work toward the ‘greater good’, made him feel almost dirty for working with the Gunners. He’d only felt like that once before, in what felt like another life; with _her_. The very thought of his past was a knife in his heart, twisting and making him bleed with reminders of all he’d lost, of what could have been if he hadn’t become a mercenary.

She watched curiously as a shroud of sorrow washed over MacCready; the effect was evident from head to toe as his mouth sank into a deep frown and his shoulders dropped under an invisible weight. Her natural response to comfort those who hurt urged her to say something, but from what she’d seen of _his_ nature, it would be best to leave him alone for a while. He appeared proud, something she could sympathize with, and it was not lost on her that she had damaged his pride by questioning his involvement in the Quincy Massacre. When the both of them cooled off, she would apologize to him, and maybe find out a little more about him.

As they reached a paved road, Bryleen went on the defensive, slipping her shotgun off her shoulder, readying herself for any threat. Taking that as his cue, he pulled his rifle out, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary that might be lurking behind the bushes. From the look of her questionably modded combat shotgun, he might have to do a little more protecting than usual, but there was something in the way she moved that made him rethink that; it was so natural, her gun was almost an extension of her body, moving with grace and fluidity. Out in the open like this, they had to be careful of every step they took, because you never knew what might come for you in the wastes, but this oddly named woman seemed ready to take on anything.

Just up the road, coming up to the underpass, a deep growl came from their right. The flash of pink from the corner on his eye told MacCready that they’d stumbled upon at least one mongrel dog. He’d come across more than his fair share of the beasts when he roamed the wastes. If one of them managed to get ahold of Bryleen’s leg, they’d shred right through her vault suit and do some gnarly damage.

Taking aim, MacCready was about to take a shot when a deafening explosion rang out to his right. In his scope he saw the first mongrel burst into pieces in a disgusting spray of viscera. Before he’d even managed to lower his gun, two more explosions went off, causing a loud ringing sound in his ears.

With his rifle down, MacCready took in the scene in front of him. Three mongrels lay in hundreds of bloody pieces scattered to kingdom come, and Bryleen stood over the carnage with her shotgun.

“The heck kinda gun is that? An arm cannon?” He tried to keep his voice down, but it was a hard thing to manage when he was still mostly deaf. Bryleen just smiled at him like it was completely normal to have a weapon that threatened to break the sound barrier. There was a sneaking suspicion growing in the back of his mind; she was wicked fast with reflexes like lightning. Why had she hired him?

“Combat shotgun. Modified with an advanced receiver and compensator.” One of his eyebrows raised in question; MacCready had seen plenty of shotguns in his day, even some modded ones, and not one of them made things explode on impact like that.

“And it comes with a tenderizer for your food.”

“Uhm, yeah, it does pack a punch. Not quite sure why.” This weapon, and several others that she’d found in the wastes, had randomly come with…unique quirks. No clue as to why, but so far none of them had maimed her, so she kept using those most useful to her. “You’ll get used to the noise after a while. Or you’ll just go deaf.” She was pretty sure she’d lost a good chunk of her hearing since getting the gun, though most of it had been recovered with stimpaks.

“I don’t know how much work there is out there for deaf mercs,” he teased softly, throwing a wink her way. In a way, Bryleen wished he would stay angry with her, because not-pissed-off MacCready was sort of charming in a way that could prove to be dangerous.

In the distance there was a new sound that caught their attention. Bryleen tilted her head to catch whatever it was, and she picked up on the distinct whine of a siren. _Oh great_.

“Time to run.” Instead of slinging her gun back over her shoulder, she kept it out as she ran, unsure of what they’d encounter when they got to Oberland.

Unable to take her eyes off the rocky terrain, she wondered whether or not MacCready was keeping up with her. Blocking out the blare of the siren and the sound of her harsh breathing, she could hear the sound of his boots thudding right behind her. _Good, he can keep up with me_. When she wasn’t stealth-ing around the Commonwealth, she was usually running, so this was a good test of his stamina.

Over the next little hill, they came up to the thick of the battle, seeing Super Mutants plowing into the small settlement. Not hesitating for a second, MacCready tucked his rifle to his shoulder and began sniping the hulking giants from the top of the ridge, but Bryleen rushed headlong into the fighting, clearing the way with her shotgun.

“Time to die!” The mutants were yelling, screaming, and grunting while they attempted to massacre the settlers. No wonder they’d called for her help. Several of the mutants had mini guns, and one even had a missile launcher. She’s targeted the one lobbing missiles her way, desperate to get rid of that one before it did too much damage to the settlers or her settlement, and he surprisingly went down with one shot. _I’m good, but I’m not that good_. Above the sound of the settlers’ pipe weapons, there was a loud crack of a rifle. Another mutant dropped, and her gaze was pulled back to the ridge, seeing MacCready kneeling in the dirt, sniping like it was what he was born for. Impressive.

Settlers crowded in, trying to fight off the mutants, but that only made things hard for her. The closer they got, the more likely they were to be injured by the blast radius of her gun. In a split second decision, Bryleen switched out her shotgun for her pistol and continued her assault, hopefully keeping those around her safe. The pistol spat brass at breakneck speeds as she mowed through the rest of the rampaging mutants, and they finally started dwindling.

“I think that’s everyth-,” _Beep, beep, beep._ Where the heck was it coming from? The ticking of a literal bomb was sending electric charges of panic through her system. Most of the injured settlers were sitting on the ground around her, nursing their wounds, and they too began to panic at the sound. They were sitting ducks here, and if the suicider got too close to the wounded, it could kill them all.

“Bryleen!” Her head whipped back to see MacCready pointing to the slope on the other side of the train tracks. MacCready was firing on the mutant, but the darned thing just wasn’t going down. The closer it got, the more worried she became, until she couldn’t bear to wait any longer.

From his ridge, MacCready grew furious that the stupid mutant wasn’t going down, no matter how many rounds he put in it. If he could risk a shot to the nuke it carried, he could take it out, but that was a risky move with the civvies so close. When he pulled back to reload, he saw a blue flash close to his target, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Seriously, who ran headlong toward a freaking active suicider? Through his scope, MacCready watched her stop a mere five feet in front of the running mutant, and take her stand armed with her shotgun. _Don’t do it lady, don’t risk it_.

“Get down!” Bryleen yelled behind her and took her aim. The last thing MacCready saw from his position was the muzzle flash from her shot and then the whole world went white. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for the delay! At first I wanted Sunshine Tidings Co-op to be the settlement they had to defend, but once I got into the game, I realized the walk was too long for what I wanted, so changes were made.
> 
> If you liked this, please leave me a comment. Hearing from readers gives me so much encouragement and keeps me motivated to continue writing. If you're shy and don't feel comfortable leaving a public comment, feel free to send me an email at highlandrose1743@yahoo.com. I'd love to answer any questions you have, or maybe even give some spoilers for what's to come. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and stay tuned for more updates on Bryleen and MacCready!


	4. Oh General, my General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of an explosive run in with some super mutants. How did she pull through it?

“Boss!” The blast had knocked MacCready to the ground and made his head pound something awful. God, she had to be ten kinds of crazy to pull a stunt like that. From the force of the explosion, there was a strong possibility that she hadn’t survived it, that she was laying in pieces scattered across the train tracks; the bloody images floating through his mind made him nauseous.

Gathering up his rifle from the ground, ignoring the scattered rounds he’d dropped during his reload, he ran down the hill to investigate. Sure, she was a vaultie, but she seemed like a decent person who didn’t deserve to go out like that.

“General, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; you’re absolutely crazy.” One of the settlers was reaching down, just out of his view. His heart finally resumed beating when he saw a blue sleeved arm stretch up to accept help up.

“Well, you know, they say there’s a fine line between genius and insanity.” Bryleen felt like she’d been run over by a freight train when Carol began to help her out of the dirt. If she hadn’t used a stimpak right before the blast hit her, it more than likely would have killed her. Someday her luck was going to run out, but she thanked God that today was not that day; she might change her mind tomorrow when she woke up with bruises galore.

“Not sure what side of the line you’re on today.” Despite the soreness in her face, Bryleen smirked; bantering with Carol Hodgins always seemed to lift her spirits on her way through the settlement.

“Oh, come on Carol, all the best people are just a little crazy.” Bryleen got a dubious look for that, and she knew that there was a witty comment heading her way. 

“But _they_ don’t run _toward_ suiciders.” Ah, Carol never disappointed. They shared a laugh and turned to walk toward the settlement, but almost instantly a sharp pain sliced across her back, stealing her breath away.

“Damn, that smarts.” The words were a broken moan. “Don’t make me laugh anymore!” She groaned, straining to probe her back for injury, unable to maneuver with her pack on. In a flash of green and tan, MacCready was by her side. For a minute, she’d completely forgotten that he was there, but she was glad for his presence when her knees gave out on her as the pain grew too much.

“Whoa, easy there.” She swayed on her feet for a moment before collapsing hard against his chest. Not knowing where to grab her, she started to slide down his front. “Oh, heck.” He tried to grab her around her pack, but the thing was too big for him to get a good grip. He didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed, he just gripped her ass and hauled her up against him before she dropped to the ground.

“Bring her over here.” The lady who’d helped her up started walking to the bunk house, leaving MacCready to handle her unconscious body. Her backpack was firmly attached to her with multiple straps that he didn’t have time to mess around with, so he tightened his hold on her backside and pulled her up like a toddler against his chest, and carried her to the first bed he came to in the bunk house, laying her on her side.

“What’s going on?” Against the grey of the sheets, her face looked ghostly pale, her dark lashes were a slash of color fanning across her cheeks. The woman brought Bryleen’s arm around to look at her Pip-Boy, and signed.

“Looks like she’s hurt somewhere in her middle.” She unbuckled Bryleen’s bag, and it dropped to the floor with a massive thud. Her front appeared unscathed, but when rolled over, they could see that there was a large, bloody rip in her vault suit. “Damn it, General.” MacCready grimaced as she probed the angry looking wound, checking how deep it went.

“We need to stim her.” He said, panic creeping up in his tight voice. Why were they sitting around when she was bleeding so badly? She was soaking the blanket under her way too fast for comfort.

“The General told us that if this kind of thing happened, we had to make sure there’s nothing inside the wound before we stim her. If she fully healed with something inside of her, whatever it was would just continue to tear her up inside.” There was a heavy silence as they examined the wound. “It looks clear, but she’s broken a couple ribs.” MacCready was about to ask why she kept calling Bryleen ‘General’, but didn’t have a chance before he heard the hiss of a stimpak. Right in front of his eyes, the ragged edges of the wound start to seal up; her blood flow slowed gradually until it finally stopped.

Everything looked healed up, with only a raw pink patch of new skin left behind, and MacCready watched her face for signs that she was waking up. He didn’t have to wait long. Bryleen’s mossy green eyes popped open wide with panic until she locked onto MacCready. The panic trickled away like a lazy stream until they were bright and clear, starting up at him in question.

“What just happened Carol?” In a foolish move, she sat up fast, and her head rushed fiercely. Her eyes rolled back and she dropped back down onto the bed.

“I think you landed on something. Tore a good size hole in your back.” The blood on Carol’s hands testified to the fact that she’d administered aide, and so did the lingering pain in her back.

“That explains the wooziness.” Beneath her, she could hear the creak of a mattress. “Whose bed am I in?” She looked up and took note of which nook she was in. “Help me up, I need to wash out Jimmy’s mattress.” MacCready looked to Carol for help to make her stay down, but Carol knew better than to get in her way.

“You’re the craziest General in the Commonwealth.” Carol laughed and helped her up despite her best judgement.

“I’m the only general in the Commonwealth.” She countered, laughing as MacCready and Carol each took an arm and slowly lifted her to her feet. Even with the blood drained from her head swimming somewhere around her knees, Bryleen still managed to stand fairly steadily. “I’m going to grab some water and start cleaning up. MacCready could you help move the bodies?” Both stood back to make sure she wasn’t going to fall on her face before walking out to go clean up Super Mutant parts all over the ‘wealth.

“Does this happen a lot?” He was carting off a blown off leg while Carol had a couple arms, hauling them down the hill away from the station. Having never really been around a Minuteman settlement, he had no way to know how they operated.

“The muties? Every now and again we’ll get a wandering group, but mostly we just get raiders.” Most times the machine gun turrets were enough to put off humans who thought a settlement was easy pickings, but the mutants weren’t usually that smart.

“Not what I meant. Is she always so…?” Was there even a right word for what she was like? She hadn’t really been careless about it; she’d done her best to save the injured settlers. Her actions couldn’t be described as smart either since she blew up a _bomb_ a few feet away from her face.

“Yeah, she is.” Carol chuckled, understanding his confusion more than he knew. The General was pretty different from the average citizen on the Commonwealth, and she seemed to know it well, but Carol couldn’t ever quite figure out why. “Never a boring minute with her around.”

“Lots of stuff in store for me, I guess.” If this is what he had to look forward today in and day out, they might need to renegotiate his wages. Then again, he’d gone up against more questionable things under the Gunner flag.

“You take up traveling with her?” It was hard for him to read her expression, but he had a feeling she was implying something. He grabbed up a severed hand and what was probably a large chunk of the suicider.

“For the meantime, why?” How long was the two hundred caps going to last is she kept giving him a darn heart attack every time he turned around?

“Long as I’ve known her, she only traveled with her dog.” Never so much as talked about another person with more than a passing interest if Carol was being honest, and now she showed up with a random man. “How long have you been with her?”

“About forty minutes.” Probably the most intense forty minutes of his life. “She’d just hired me when she got the message to come save the day.” In that time, he felt like he’d gotten to know her at least a little, and what he’d learned was…interesting to say the least. A one-woman army with the reflexes of lightning who dropped everything to help some strangers? Never before had such a person existed in the Commonwealth.

“Hired you huh? Well you sure are a handsome one in these parts, but she didn’t strike me as the type.” She didn’t even try to hide her implication, and made him blush as she threw him a suggestive wink.

“She hired my gun, lady, not my…other services.” _That_ kind of business wasn’t really big in the Commonwealth. It wasn’t like it _never_ happened, but it wasn’t like places he’d heard of out West where they had places just for that. MacCready himself however, didn’t want a part of any of it.

“Not judging, but I’ll take your word for it.” Other settlers had joined them in the cleanup, making short work of heaping the parts into a big pile a decent way from the settlement. Some of the settlers poured a can of Mr. Handy fuel over the reeking mound, letting it seep in briefly before throwing on a second.

“Who’s got a light?” Carol looked around the little circle that had formed, and several pulled out flip lighters, ready for the signal to burn the bodies. “Light it up.” Everyone took a couple steps back, watching as flames engulfed the mutant parts.

“I’ve never seen anyone burn the bodies.” In truth, he didn’t deal with mutants very often and didn’t hang around after they were dead to find out what happened to them after. The heat grew stifling under his trench coat, and little beads of sweat were forming on the back of his neck. He walked back to the water pumps he’d seen by the side of the building earlier to wash the filth from his hands and bumped into Bryleen while she filled an enamel bucket.

“I’ll get you another blanket Jimmy, and we’ll switch out your mattress for one of the spares.” She carried the bucket over to where the bloody mattress was propped against the side of the bunk house, added Abraxo and started scrubbing the red stain with a rag. A man leaned next to the mattress watching her work, which made MacCready a little uneasy, but Bryleen didn’t seem to mind, so he left her alone, keeping a watchful eye as he scrubbed the combination of human and mutant blood from his own hands. 

“You don’t gotta do that General.” The man told her, raking one hand through his unruly mop of dusty hair. “It’ll be dry before I get to sleep; I got the late watch tonight.” _Jimmy_. Bryleen bashfully smiled his way, not letting up on her scrubbing.

“Course I do. This is the second time I’ve bled all over your bed.” The stain was slowly going away under her efforts, so she kept at it. “Are you sure you don’t want to move to a different spot where they won’t put bleeding people? There’s a few more spots sectioned off upstairs that aren’t taken.”

“No thanks, I like the big window downstairs. Besides, when else am I gonna get a pretty lady in my bed?” They both chuckled at that knowing full well Jimmy had no real interest in her. Jimmy harbored some not so secret feelings for Carol, who was hilariously ignorant of them, but that didn’t stop him from being a premier flirt.

“If you’re sure, at least take these as an apology.” Bryleen leaned over to her pack and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, bubblegum, and a gold plated lighter. At first, he wouldn’t accept it, but he didn’t fight her when she pushed them into his hands. “Now, you better go see what you can do to help out unless you want Carol to yell at you.” Jimmy nodded his messy head, throwing on his knit cap and walking off with his prizes to find a way to keep himself useful. One of these days Carol was going to have to take pity on the poor guy and tell him one way or another if he had a shot with her or not; everyone in the settlement was bound to miss the entertainment factor of their situation, but it was best to not drag things out, especially when Jimmy was wandering about like a lovelorn puppy.

Scrubbing the mattress clean was almost a therapeutic for her; each swipe of the rag cleaned away the embedded grime, soothing her. Since emerging from the vault, she’d had the unbearable urge to clean things, to put things into some semblance of order, often feeling a looming sense of anxiety when surrounded by… well, her whole surroundings. Pretty much every surface in the post-apocalyptic wastes was covered in layers of dust and grime that made her teeth set on edge, but she’d come to terms with the fact that she couldn’t clean everything. The best guess she had come up to as to why she’d turned into a clean freak was that in a way, she was trying to reconcile her past with the present. Coming from a time and place where things were tidy and polished to perfection, it was almost horrifying how people lived these days, but she did her best to manage, even if it meant carrying soap everywhere she went.

Completely caught up in her cleaning, Bryleen failed to notice Carol and MacCready come up behind her until she felt someone gently kick one of her boots. Her head shot up, and she dropped her rag in the dirt.

“Much more scrubbin’ and you’ll wear a hole straight through it.” Carol snickered, snatching up the rag before the General could start scrubbing again.

“Could use a bit more elbow grease, if you ask me.” In her head she knew Carol was right, that she was going overboard, but it was such a hard impulse to break. At her sides, her hands twitched with the urge to grab the towel back and keep scrubbing, even though she knew she’d finished her task.

“You’d hose down the whole ‘wealth with turpentine and Abraxo if you could,” the settler sighed, “but for now, I think you should leave Jimmy’s mattress to dry.” With that, Carol whisked the bucket away so Bryleen didn’t have a chance to clean anymore, leaving her kneeling on the ground next to the wet mattress. Without the wash water, there was nothing more for her to do. Every muscle ached when she tried to stand, a soft grunt slipping from her dry lips from her efforts. A hand appeared over her left shoulder, and she gazed up to find that it belonged MacCready. 

“My hands are dirty.” The offending hands were tinged pink from the blood and covered in a tacky layer of mystery gunk. His hand was decently washed, and she didn’t want to get anything on him. He gave her a lopsided grin, pushing his hand even closer.

“No worries, I wash easy.” Just like earlier, his hand scraped along hers, making her almost believe that her bones had dissolved. Where their hands connected, she felt a strength she wanted to cling to most desperately. No matter how tough she built herself up to be, part of her was always going to call out for someone; that was probably a side effect of losing her other half.

MacCready saw wave after wave of emotion flash across her face, choosing to keep his mouth shut rather than get involved in whatever storm was going through her head. There were enough things knocking around in _his_ head without adding her baggage, so he’d let her settle things herself. For now, all he could do was help her up.

Without her bag, MacCready found that she hardly weighed anything despite the curves that filled out her suit, which he had to remind himself yet again that he was not supposed to be noticing. As close as they were, he also noticed that the top of her head only came up to his eyebrows, even with her cap on, giving her a more…delicate appearance: Not that he’d ever see her as delicate now that he’d seen her fight.

“Thanks, MacCready.” This time she waited for him to pull away first, which he did after a few seconds. So far in their limited partnership, he was proving to actually be helpful, and Bryleen was determined to play nice; just because he was sort of attractive didn’t give her an excuse to be _un_ friendly to him. Snagging a plastic-wrapped bar of soap from her bag, Bryleen walked back to the water pump, trying to work out how to pump the water and wash at the same time since Carol had taken her bucket…

“I’ll run the pump for you if you return the favor.” Seemed reasonable, so she nodded and MacCready gave a few pumps on the handle for her to get her hands wet enough to lather with the soap. With a surgeon’s diligence, Bryleen scrubbed the soap on every surface of her hands, letting the rich lather lift away the grit and grime, only setting it down to scrape underneath her fingernails. Once her hands were clean to her standards, he pumped a bit more water for her to rinse with, and they switched spots.

“You wanna use this?” She offered up the soap before she wrapped it back up. He almost declined but took it just to humor her. If she wanted everything scrubbed clean, he supposed he could oblige her for the time they traveled together; he might not have any skin on his hands by the end of it, but she’d be pleased.

“Are you always this clean?” From the way she cleaned the mattress, neurotic would have been a better word. Head to toe, she was probably the cleanest thing in the wastes, and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why she tried to keep up with it. 

“I try to be.” A simple answer for a complicated matter in her mind. It went beyond simply liking to be clean; it was a compulsion, comforting when it was done, maddening when it wasn’t.

“Must be a vaultie thing.” Bryleen couldn’t be sure without asking him directly, but she thought she heard a touch of disdain in the words. She was a little tired so maybe it was just all in her head, but she mentally filed that away to maybe ask him about it later when she’d had a good night’s sleep.

“Here, dry off and we’ll head out.” Even the towel she handed him was clean, though a little damp from her using it. Something caught her attention over his shoulder, making her smile. “We’re heading out, Carol.” The blonde had cleaned herself up a bit, retying her hair up into a tight pony tail and ditching her bloody clothes.

“No rest for the wicked, eh, General?” She nudged Bryleen with her elbow, tossing a small bag her way. “It ain’t much, but we’re grateful.” Caps for a job well done. _Why does everyone keep trying to pay me_ , Bryleen pondered.

“Carol, you know you don’t have to pay me. You’re under Minutemen protection.” The way that she said it made something click in MacCready’s brain. Settlements. Minutemen. General. He felt like his eyes might pop out of his head from how intensely he was staring at her now. This little red-haired vaultie was the _General_ of the freaking _Minutemen_?

“And nice as that is, does anyone else ever come to help?” Carol raised a brow in question, but they both knew the answer. “That’s why I pay _you_.” Damn, even the settlers were noticing…

“Stubborn ass.” Instead of scowling, Carol gave Bryleen an innocent smile.

“You know me, General. Stubborn’s my middle name.” _Stubborn…pain in the ass…either term worked._

“Yes, Carol Stubborn Hodgins. Be on the lookout for a provisioner from the Co-op in the next day or so. I’m sending a shipment of upgraded weapons and the parts for a jukebox.” They’d been asking for it for a while, but they had to wait for a shipment of copper. Carol’s eyes grew large with excitement over the prospect; it was a tossup which she was more excited about, the guns or the jukebox.

“You’re the best, General. I’ll pass the word on to the others.” After that, Bryleen walked around, giving everything a onceover, and saying goodbye to the rest of the settlers before leaving towards the north.

MacCready hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the revelation of who she was. People had to be living under a rock is they hadn’t heard of the General of the Minutemen. Even the Gunners whispered about the mysterious General in their ranks, and he could say with one hundred percent certainty that _this_ was not what any of them expected.

It wasn’t his place to question her, and a little part of his brain begging him to keep his gob shut, but once they had gotten about a quarter-mile from Oberland, the question popped out of his mouth.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the wait! I got caught up with work and other things. 
> 
> So...yes, Bryleen is a bit of a clean-freak. In every fanfic I’ve read, the sole survivor always has some trait that is left over from their time in the past, and this is what I’ve chosen for her. Imagine going from a place where everything was clean and tidy to a world where everything is covered in dirt and trash (shudder). 
> 
> If you like it, please drop a comment, because I’d love to get the chance to answer any questions you have or answer any questions you have.


	5. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the chaos of the Oberland Station raid, Bryleen is looking forward to a warm welcome home.

While it was only a matter of time before they would have had this conversation, she had hoped to go a little longer as _just_ Bryleen. Her breath came out in a deep sigh, and she gave her shoulder a terse shrug under her pack.

“It probably would have come up eventually.” Hardly a day went by when she wasn’t doing something or other for the Minutemen, so MacCready was bound to notice sooner rather than later. “Does it really matter though? My caps are just as good as anyone else’s.” Her tone held a soft bite of frustration and defensiveness that she knew he could hear. It was exhausting at times, being judged for her involvement with the Minutemen, being held to their standards. Why couldn’t people just let her be herself? MacCready threw his hands up in mock surrender, attempting to break her tension with a smile.

“Hey, I’m the last guy who can judge your choice of employment. Just would have been nice to know I’m traveling with Commonwealth royalty.” _And under the spotlight for everyone to see_. Such a high-profile woman could, and most likely would, bring unwanted attention to him, and like Winlock said: He wasn’t even supposed to _be_ in the Commonwealth. Despite the personal risk, it was far too soon to tuck tail and run. As long as he traveled with her, he’d just try to keep as low as possible.

“I’m not sure about royalty bit, but it’s nice to hear that _someone_ isn’t judging me.” Bryleen admitted to herself that she shouldn’t be laying anything heavy on MacCready, she’d only met him roughly an hour ago, but it just came out. Eight long months alone without a sympathetic ear to talk to was no excuse to lay out her life’s story at his feet; certainly not when she’d kept it a secret from everyone else she met, save one or two who were helping her find Shaun.

He’d been taking in everything since the moment she’d hired him, and he was picking up on every little cue in her voice. Somewhere just under the surface of that calm face, a storm was brewing, and he definitely didn’t want to be on her bad side when it unleashed. 

“Had it pretty rough huh?” MacCready was no stranger to being shoved around, and something about her had him thinking that maybe she understood where he was coming from. A smirk played at the corner of her lovely pink mouth, but never fully showed. That flaming hair he couldn’t help but wonder at fluttered around her shoulders as her head shook.

“With the Minutemen? No, they’re alright when they aren’t up my butt every ten seconds.” Considering that her personal life consisted of coping with her husband’s murder and her seemingly endless, and fruitless, search for her baby boy, leading the Minutemen was a cakewalk.

“Yeah, you seem to be at their beck and call.” One hour and that much was obvious. Behind her stiff chuckle he could practically hear her saying, “ _Oh you newbie_ ”.

“That’s what it means to be in the Minutemen. Protect the people at a minute’s notice.” They were trying to do their best to climb back out of the shadow of the Quincy Massacre, and it had been an uphill battle, but thanks to her they were established in the Commonwealth once more. All thanks to her. Beneath the veil of success lay a growing sense of discontent that could only be expected when that success was built on the back of one person.

“I always thought they were kidding themselves. ‘A minutes notice’? No one can be anywhere in a minute.” Sarcasm aside, she’d had the same thought from the beginning. She’d been drawn in, feeling the need to help them when she herself felt so helpless, however, in the time that she’d been the General, she had grown and changed; the Minutemen had not.

“That’s why there are so many settlements. If we only operated out of Sanctuary, yeah, we’d never get anything done, but having locations all across the Commonwealth, there’s usually another settlement nearby to help out.” With enough locations to effectively canvas the map, slowly, the Minutemen were becoming a force to be reckoned with, though Bryleen wanted to keep their full strength as hidden as possible. If the Institute decided to strike out at them while they were still building resources and strength, it would likely be the permanent end to them.

“How many settlements are there? I knew you guys had Sanctuary and I heard Outpost Zimonja was turned into a settlement a while back.” A little snicker came out of her pinched lips. There was really no way for him to know how far their reach went, and she wasn’t really certain she should be telling him any of this. Even if he was on the up and up, the Institute was known for making people… disappear, and who knew what they did to them; what information they could get out of them.

“You wanna know _privileged_ Minutemen information?” Fixing the best mock surprised look she could on her face, she tried to act outraged, which was made so much harder by MacCready rolling his pleasant blue eyes at her. “I don’t know. If you blabbed, I’d have to take you out.” Just past her heavily jesting tone was a grain of truth. Trusting MacCready with any sensitive information made him dangerous if he turned it over to any of the Minutemen’s enemies, and in that case, she would have no choice but to eliminate the threat.

“I’m a steel trap boss. Anything you tell me stays with me.” Unlike most mercs, coin bought his silence. Whatever happened during their travels together stayed between them even after they’d split, and that’s the code he stuck by. A smile of approval crossed her lips, and her dark eyes showed that she was sincerely impressed with his ethics.

“It’s good to know,” Bryleen sighed, feeling more at ease. “I’ve built up twenty-four settlements around the Commonwealth.” Each one had been a complete pain in the ass to make livable, but she was very proud of all that she’d accomplished with them. And in reality, it was more like twenty-three seeing as no one was allowed on Spectacle Island but her… and her robots, dogs, and cats. It was ‘Spectacle’ Island for a reason.

“Holy cow, that’s a lot.” That was much more than he thought possible. Everyone knew that the Quincy Massacre had pretty much wiped out the Minutemen, and that had only been, what, nine months ago? How had she managed to build up two dozen settlements in nine months? “I’m impressed.” His praise gave her a bare hint of blush that she prayed he didn’t notice. A job like General of the Minutemen wasn’t about the recognition or the praise, but damn it felt incredible for someone to give her that little thumbs up for working her tail off.

“Thanks.” Too bad the person praising her wasn’t even a part of the faction. Would it kill Garvey or even one of the settlers to say thank you for any of the stuff she’d done? It was never ‘ _Oh thank you for the bunk house, we don’t have to sleep outside anymore_ ’ or ‘ _Hey, we love the rugs you brought last time, they really brighten the place up_ ’. That would have only been the kind thing to do, but no, it was always ‘ _General, when are you bringing more corn? We’re tired of mutfruit_ ’ and ‘ _There’s nothing to do here General, we’re getting bored_ ’.

“So where are we heading now?” At the moment MacCready didn’t think his heart could handle another round of her toeing the suicidal line, so he hoped she had something tamer planned.

“Well, I have some stuff I need to drop off, so we’ll have to stop by Sanctuary.” The very mention of the settlement had MacCready crestfallen, his shoulders oddly tense and drooping at the same time, and a shadow of anxiety lingering on his face.

“Is that a problem MacCready?” To her knowledge, no one had really occupied Sanctuary since her arrival there after thawing out, so it wasn’t as if he had a history with the place, but obviously something about it was bugging him.

“Not on my end, but if Garvey’s there I probably won’t make it through the gate alive.” Between the lines, Bryleen could tell this had something to do with Quincy. MacCready had said that he hadn’t been a part of it, and she trusted his word, but it was apparent that the two men had interacted at some point during the disaster. No matter what had happened between the two, it had nothing to do with her and MacCready’s business arrangement.

“He is there, but I won’t let him try anything stupid.” She didn’t know how pissed Garvey would be to see MacCready, but nothing was going to happen on her watch. “If things get tense, just stand behind me.” Yet another chapter of complication in her life, but she couldn’t entirely blame MacCready for this one; things had been rocky between her and Preston for a while, and eventually things were going to come to a head. If it just so happened that seeing MacCready was what pushed things over the edge, then so be it.

“If it’s going to cause trouble, I can just hang out somewhere while you take care of what you need to.” It was an earnest offer, but not one she was going to take him up on. It wasn’t for the Minutemen, Garvey especially, to tell her who she could associate with; if she wanted to run around with an ex-gunner, then by God she was going to run around with an ex-gunner. Bryleen felt a hot trickle of guilt crawl down her spine: She was going to use MacCready to knock Preston down a peg. No matter how much she did for the Minutemen, Preston was always trying to control her in some way or another, and it was time for that to stop.

“No. I don’t care what sort of past you have. If you’re with me that should be more than enough for people to leave you alone.” After all that she’s been through for her factions, Bryleen felt as though they should trust her judgement far more than they did. MacCready’s eyes feasted on her stubborn look of resolve, and felt it wise to not argue with her.

“Well, as long as you’re sure, let’s move on.” This would be his first time to Sanctuary since it became a settlement. On occasion, the Gunners would send people out to try and infiltrate it, but MacCready hadn’t ever been assigned to go. He couldn’t bring himself to regret that seeing as none of them ever came back… Due to this, there was no intel on what was inside the settlement. His stomach flipped, and he begrudgingly admitted that he was more than a little nervous to see what laid behind the tall junk walls encompassing Sanctuary. _How bad could it really be? Probably doesn’t have a fuc- freaking prison like the Gunners_. Preston was too much of a humanitarian to allow that crap in his precious settlements, but that didn’t ease MacCready’s worry or the phantom pains across his body as they kept trekking.

With nothing better to do in the quiet moments, the two of them snuck peeks at each, continuing to build up their opinions of each other.

Bryleen was not any sort of normal for the wastes. From the Capital Wasteland to the Commonwealth Wastes, he had never seen anyone even close to her. He’d originally thought that the dimmed red light of the VIP lounge had obscured the color of her hair, but out in the sun, the shoulder-length tresses cascading from beneath her newsboy cap truly shone every bit as red and vibrant as a fire. The color of her hair brought out the faint flush riding high in her cheeks, and her fair skin did the same for her eyes. Those eyes. Daylight brought out a myriad of colors that threatened to hold him captive if he stared any longer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. From a distance, her eyes could easily be mistaken for brown, almost black, but at an arm’s length away, their bold green depths were striking.

 _No way can she be real_ , his brain told him. He was already awestruck, and that was just _above_ her shoulders. MacCready had seen the rest of her in passing earlier and then when she was injured, but now he had time to really get a good look. Starting from her feet, her ankles were tucked into a black, scuffed-up pair of Vault-Tec issued boots. They looked almost comically large compared to her slender calves, which were lean and toned, not like the scrawny ones that a lot of wasteland women had. _Vault life must have been really good to her_ , MacCready mused, letting his eyes venture up to her full thighs that had him thinking… heck, thoughts he _really_ needed to get out of his head if he was going to work with her. Her top was mostly hidden by her combat chest piece, but along the side under her arm, he could see how her waist tucked in, how her hips flared out. Oh crap, she was nothing _but_ curves, and the part of him that had pretty much stayed dormant for the better part of three years was beginning to stir. _I’m in for a world of trouble._

Stealing herself against her growing attraction to her companion, Bryleen tried to look at him objectively. Like her, he was wearing heavy boots, which was most certainly the most sensible choice of footwear for the Commonwealth. His pant legs were over his boots rather than tucked in, which was foolish because that’s how people ended up with bugs in their pants. There were a couple rows of rifle rounds strapped to his thigh, which honestly wasn’t a bad idea. His clothing was much looser than her skin tight vault suit, and he was further concealed by his long, tattered trench coat. The only part of him she could see with any real definition were his bared forearms; they were thin, much thinner than Nate’s, but hard with wiry muscles. She imagined that most of him was like that, very lean and muscular. Life in the wasteland was hard and it showed in the bodies of the people populating it. Bryleen counted herself fortunate that she’d been able to stave off malnutrition, though she regretted _how_ she’d managed to do it, but people like MacCready who were born into the rough land often weren’t so lucky. It was unfair of her to compare him to Nate when their circumstances were so totally different and she knew it. Hell, she shouldn’t even be thinking of him with the same frame of mind as she did Nate; Nate had been her husband, her friend, her love, the father of her son. All MacCready was, was a convenient stranger.

If it weren’t for the fact that he’d pretty much saved her life, she would be seriously contemplating sending him on his way and out of her service, caps be damned. The only things stopping her was that fact that he’d saved her, and the fact that she’d promised Daisy to give this a shot. _Call me old-fashioned_ , Bryleen thought sourly, _but one hour isn’t exactly giving it the old college-try._

They passed several locations on their way Sanctuary, and MacCready half expected her to stop off at at least one of them, but she kept trudging along, completely ignoring everything around her. Her one-track focus on reaching Sanctuary had him sweating, his mind churning up all sorts of scenarios as to what might happen when they got there. All the scenarios only enforced one thought; he couldn’t die here. There were still people depending on him, so his only shot at making it was trusting Bryleen to be the voice of reason if Preston chose to fly off the handle.

Just past the Red Rocket station, they picked up the sound of laser pistols echoing loudly in the once quiet afternoon. Sheer panic gripped her stomach in a vice. Bryleen didn’t waste a second breaking into a dead sprint. Her backpack heavily slapped against her back threatening to bruise her, so she tightened the straps nearly to the point of pain and kept running.

 _Gunners? Raiders?_ What more did she have to deal with today? From all of the shots being fired, there had to be something big and most of the settlers were fighting it. _How many times do I have to tell them, just retreat behind the gates and let the turrets take care of the threat?_ How the hell did Preston expect the other settlements to listen to her when _he_ wouldn’t enforce simple guidelines?

Cresting the hill in front of the bridge, Bryleen armed herself with her beastly shotgun, ready to take on a small army. A ragged groan of disbelief ripped from her throat while she angrily slung her weapon back over her shoulder. Just as she’d expected, over half of the settlers, led by Preston, were on the bridge brandishing pipe pistols and firing down into the river at a single deathclaw.

Stalking forward, Bryleen pulled out two frag grenades, pulling the pin on the first and expertly threw it at her target.

“‘Nade!” Her warning came mere seconds before the explosion, and was quickly followed by the second grenade. All the eyes of the settlers flew her direction. With their eyes off the deathclaw, it saw its chance to retaliate and with a deafening roar, it launched up towards the distracted settlers. Two loud pops sounded over Bryleen’s shoulder made her wince as MacCready finished off the deathclaw, but she never moved her eyes away from Preston’s wayward group. On the other side of her disapproving gaze, Preston watched the deathclaw finally fall. Around him, the settlers celebrated the victory over their formidable foe, but as Preston’s eyes looked behind where the General stood, narrowing them to pinpoints upon seeing MacCready.

Bryleen saw this change in the usually calm man and slid in front of her recent hire, shielding him from Preston’s fast approach. Over her head, MacCready could see Preston storming towards them, laser rifle raised and aimed at his head: Maybe Preston wouldn’t shoot him if Bryleen was in the line of fire…

“General, get back!” Preston stopped a few feet short of them, keeping MacCready firmly in his sights. He had apparently misread her shielding motion earlier, so she made a show of jumping in front of MacCready and pressing back until she made contact, leaving no room for misunderstanding: MacCready was with _her_ and she wouldn’t stand aside. 

“Afternoon, Preston,” she replied coolly to his demand. If anyone was going to lose their head and look bad here, it wasn’t going to be her. Deep coffee-brown eyes scowled at the non-existent distance between her and MacCready, and he shuffled a few steps closer. It almost made her laugh how much he looked like a bristled kitten, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to while she was on the wrong end of his gun.

“Do you even know who that is?” Outrage spiked his voice like barbed-wire and would likely have cut her to the quick if she’d cared. Her terse breath escaped her in a sigh, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes just a tad.

“R.J. MacCready. I hired him in Goodneighbor.” Personal money had been used, so it wasn’t really any of his business, but under his dark skin he grew deep red; he was going to explode any minute.

“Hired him? You hired a Gunner?!” Now it was her turn to look over _his_ shoulder at the skittish settlers watching them. Playing this situation right meant she’d keep her standing and Preston would be the one to lose face with the Sanctuary, but she couldn’t let her temper get the better of her no matter how much she wanted to tear into him.

“Ex-Gunner. He hasn’t been with them in a while, and I’ll be traveling with him until further notice.” The tension was palpable between the three of them and Preston was getting more agitated with each passing moment.

“There’s no such thing as an ex-Gunner, General! You don’t know what he’s done. Stand down and let me handle this!” Pain and anger warred for prominence in his voice, and for just a moment she questioned MacCready’s insistence that he’d had nothing to do with Quincy. A fast glance back at MacCready showed her that he was angry with Preston, possibly having had it pride battered, but when he met her eyes, she saw fear. If she backed down to Preston, he was as good as dead. Worried blue eyes beseeched her silently to help him out of this situation.

“I can’t do that. I hired him, so he’s under _my_ protection.” Standing as tall as she could, she squared her shoulders and widened her stance, physically establishing her dominance. If he wanted to act like a Neanderthal, she’d go toe to toe with him. Preston’s shoulders dropped a fraction, but he wasn’t about to drop the issue.

“I won’t allow you to bring people like _him_ into my settlement.” _His settlement?_ Fiery anger ripped through her and she almost shouted in his face, but she reined it back, keeping control of the situation.

“A settlement that wouldn’t even exist if _I_ hadn’t built it.” She didn’t care to pull rank on people, never had, but she would throw her weight around if that’s what she needed to do. “I need to drop off some supplies and I’ll be gone by the morning, but MacCready _will_ be staying with me.” Preston had barely opened his mouth to yell a reply when one of the settlers came out of the crowd.

“Hey now, we’re all friends here.” Sturges walked over the bridge with his easy gait, arms spread open low by his waist. His stance was completely friendly and vulnerable, ever the peace-keeper. “We’ve had a mighty exciting time, but now I think it’s best we all get back to work.” That slow southern drawl worked its magic and before anyone had a chance to notice, he was comfortably wedged between Preston and Bryleen.

“I think that’s a great idea Sturges.” With him on the side of peace, Bryleen let her muscles unclench and let a content smile bloom on her face. Outnumbered and under-supported, Preston shot them one last hard look and reluctantly slunk back into Sanctuary. Only once the settlers followed him back in did Sturges and Bryleen burst out into relieved chuckles.

“Damn, General, you sure can make an entrance.” Sturges walked right up to her and squeezed her in a big hug while MacCready waited for his pulse to stop ringing in his ears.

“One of my many talents.” Bryleen loosened the straps on her bag and breathed deeply as she and the men made their way across the bridge. “That was intense.” That comment earned her twin ironic snorts. _Thanks Captain Obvious_.

“I’d, uh, stick close if I were you.” Over his shoulder, Sturges took note of how pale MacCready was still.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” At this point, MacCready didn’t plan on leaving her side until they were a couple miles away from this place.

“You’ll be right as rain then. Welcome to Sanctuary!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have picked up a beta reader for this story, and unfortunately she was unable to edit in time for me to fix things before posting. I’m really trying to post on the 12th of every month. When she gets the edits back to me, I will fix it and re-upload the chapter. 
> 
> If you have anything in particular that you’d like to see or if you liked the chapter, please leave me a comment, or feel free to email me at highlandrose1743@yahoo.com.


	6. Robin Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They made it through the pearly gates of Sanctuary Hills, but is the fight truly over?

In recent months, Bryleen hadn’t often stayed in one place for too long, but she still stubbornly clung to the idea that Sanctuary was her home. It had been since before the war, so she hadn’t seen any real reason to change that, but the longer she roamed the wastes searching for Shaun, the weaker her connection to that place grew.

Without Nate and Shaun, it was quickly becoming just a house, filled to the brim with memories of a life she’d never be able to have again. The little flame of hope in her chest kept burning with the possibility that she would find Shaun, even after the things that Kellogg told her.

“Miss Nora, you’ll be very glad to know, nothing fell to pieces while you were gone.” Sturges’s sarcasm was nearly cloaked by his thick, honeyed accent, but Bryleen knew the man well enough to catch it. She’d developed a healthy appreciation of the man who kept Sanctuary in repair and Preston at bay. 

“So no losses then, but what about gains?” If the settlements were going to survive in the long run, they needed to be self-sufficient. Just before she’d left on her most recent round of missions, she’d left a plan for an expansion of their garden area with Preston, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he _hadn’t_ done anything she asked. Wouldn’t be the first time, likely wouldn’t be the last, but each time it happened it wore a little more on her nerves.

“Well Boss, you see we started workin’ on those plans, but we hit a bit of a pickle with some of the measurements, so Preston-…” Cutting him off with a wave of her hand, Bryleen ripped her cap off and raked a hand through her fiery tresses. Both Sturges and MacCready took a half-step back while she wasn’t watching, waiting to see what her reaction would be. What she wanted to do was scream out her frustration to the heavens, but she held it back, swallowing it down like a bad medicine. Her breath forced heavily through her nose, calming her enough that when she opened her eyes she managed not to shoot daggers at Sturges. _Don’t shoot the messenger_.

“I’m going to show MacCready around, take a bath, and then Preston, and I are going to have a chat.” Maybe after the tour and a good scrub she could manage a civil conversation. Hell, she’d been a lawyer, it was a trick of the trade to keep her cool in tense discussions, but that was a long time ago. No matter how hard she tried to keep up her prewar manners, the wastes were rubbing off on her.

“No problem Boss, I’ll be in the main house when you need me.” Like any smart man, he knew when to keep his head down and walk away, not that he had anything to fear from her really, but best not to go poking bears.

“Come on MacCready.” Starting from just inside the gate, she gave him a running commentary as they walked. Settlers bunked three or four to a house to give them at least _some_ privacy, and every occupied house was marked with an oil burning lamp in front.

“Why lanterns?” The sheer size of the settlement was mind-boggling, and MacCready struggled to pay attention as his eyes roamed Sanctuary. He’d seen some houses in prewar towns in his day, but it was rare to find _one_ in such good condition, let alone so many. 

“If we get new settlers, it’s easy to see which houses have spaces open.” Right now they sat happy with nineteen settlers, and they were starting to reach max capacity. They could maybe squeeze in two or three more settlers, but any more than that and they would likely start having some major problems. “And occasionally when I come back at night, I find a stranger in my bed, so I like to know where I can bunk down undisturbed.” The first few times it had happened, she’d been so angry that she’d woken up whoever had invaded her territory and relegated them to sleeping in the main house on a sleeping bag. It worked for her just fine, but the next morning when Preston caught wind of what happened, he berated her and made her apologize. _Miss Nora, you’re the General of the Minutemen. People are looking to you to as an example of what we stand for. This has all been a misunderstanding, and I think an apology is needed to keep the peace._

Preston treated her like some child having a tantrum, but she’d given in. To keep the peace… Bryleen hated being dependent on them for resources, for back up in tight situations, but it was far better than trying to make it on her own, or at least that’s what she told herself.

“So you get booted from your own bed?” That brought up memories from Little Lamplight for him. If a new kid got brought in when there weren’t any vacant spots, they were put in the bed whoever was on guard duty. Being a mayor who actually took his job seriously, it was usually _his_ bed that was taken since he was always taking on extra guard shifts.

“Yeah, it happens.” It might actually be part of the reason that she was there so little. She was reminded of the conversation she had to have with Preston later, and it brought up a fresh flush of anger, so she pushed everything away besides MacCready. “Any who, let’s continue the tour.” Bryleen pointed out the Brahmin pen built between two houses that held four of the huge beasts. The next stop was a long, skinny building with a sign that said _Market_. He thought that she’d walk past it, but she actually brought him in to show him the vendors.

“Hey Boss.” They all greeted her with smiles once she entered, but they weren’t able to mask their unease as MacCready stepped in behind her. In truth, he’d expected no different. Garvey obviously didn’t like him, so he must be bad news. Lucky for him it looked like their respect for Bryleen outweighed their loyalty to Preston.

“This is R.J. MacCready, he’ll be in town with me until tomorrow, so if he needs something, please set him up.” Her voice was soft but there was no mistaking her air of authority. Preston might lead Sanctuary, but _she_ led the Minutemen, and there would be no acting against her. The vendors all nodded at her, all understanding the thinly-veiled meaning in her words. “MacCready, there’s plenty of shops here if you need any supplies. I don’t stop to restock often, so you might want to do that before we leave.” She gave them a little farewell wave before walking back out to the main road that ran through the town.

“Does everyone always do what you tell them too?” The pleased smile she wore faded fast at his question, replaced with a sardonic smirk. Damn, the woman was one big nerve that MacCready couldn’t seem to stop prodding.

“If everyone did what I told them to, the Commonwealth would be a very different place MacCready.” If all the settlers listened to her, she wouldn’t have to mollycoddle them like children, and just maybe they would be able to expand their influence. If, if, if… Bryleen hated that word now. It was so grey and tedious, leaving room for error where there should be none.

“Well if you’re the reason this place is running so great, I’d say I agree with you.” From the very little he’d seen of Sanctuary, it was pretty impressive. It was no Megaton or Diamond City, but a thriving city in its own right. He looked over just in time to catch a glimpse of the pink tint on her cheeks before she turned to hide it. Seeing that, his stomach did a weird little flop that caught his off guard. _What the heck?_ Why did he feel anything because she blushed? _You’re barking up the wrong tree MacCready_ , he thought as he shrugged off that feeling.

“We call this the main house because it’s the center of the settlement. If there’s a meeting or you need to find an official, this is where you go.” Sturges and Preston bunked there to make it easier for the settlers to find them if something went wrong, which worked out pretty great. Mostly. Right beside the main house was a huge shack-like building, and Bryleen was a little uneasy showing it to him, but she reasoned that even if things went sour between them, he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in to steal any of the treasures within.

“And that’s… a jail?” MacCready’s nerves soaked into his voice, but he couldn’t help it; he had a thing about jails, and he didn’t care who knew it. Bryleen stopped in her tracks and looked quizzically over her shoulder; she had assumed he was joking, but one look at his face told her otherwise. He was pale again, his brows furrowed in discomfort. She turned around fully and closed the gap between them, but he didn’t even look at her, his eyes glued to the building.

“MacCready?” He didn’t respond, so she cautiously reached out, laying her hand gently over his arm. That startled him from wherever he’d gone in his head, and his blue eyes flew to her. “It’s just my workshop.” Again with the soft voice, but this time there was nothing else in it but a heap of concern. In those moments, with her gentle words and concerned eyes, it was hard to imagine that _she_ was the General that Gunners feared.

“Workshop?” The words came out weakly. God, if the Gunners had seen him like that they’d have kicked the crap out of him, but here with her, it felt… safe. Maybe it was the way her green-eyed gaze swept over him, or the way her ridiculously clean hand pressed into his arm in reassurance, but whatever it was, it was working. A sweet smile parted her lips, and MacCready could see that even her teeth were scrubbed clean.

“Just my workshop, I promise. Come on, I’ll show you.” With her hand still on his arm, she led him into the building, lit with simple hanging bulbs. Just inside the door, they stepped into a short hallway spreading to their left and right with a doorway right in front of them. That’s where she took him first, and the sight of work benches took all the starch from his spine. _Just her workshop_ , MacCready let out the breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding.

“So what exactly is all this?” The stove was obvious enough, but the rest of it was a little questionable. Instead of being annoyed, she took him around the room and explained what each work bench was typically used for.

“If you want, I could upgrade some of your stuff for you,” she offered, eyeing his tattered trench coat and battered hat. The man didn’t even have anything in the way of protective gear. Did he have a death wish? MacCready followed her gaze and took in his own outfit before looking at hers. Over top of the flashy, blue vault suit she wore full armor, which while mismatched, looked up to the task of protecting her body. The only thing that made no sense was her clean but worn newsboy cap. If she wanted to keep that red head safe, that hat was really not the way to go.

“I don’t need some vaultie telling me how to dress.” There was no telling what she’d deck him out in if he let her, and he didn’t trust anyone with his gear or his gun but himself, so he had to give her offer a thanks-but-no-thanks.

“I’m not a…” _A vaultie?_ For all intents and purposes she was, and there was no avoiding and no use denying that. “Never mind, let’s just finish the tour.” As she led him up the stairs from the workshop, she thought about the vault. She couldn’t consider herself a true vault dweller like the residents of Vault 81 since she hadn’t actually _lived_ in Vault 111. Just spent over two hundred years there as a block of ice.

“Holy crap.” MacCready could hardly believe his eyes when he’d reached the top of stairs to see many _complete_ sets of power armor looking back at him like silent soldiers. He rushed over to the random fence that separated him from the armor and started in awe. “How many-?”

“I lost track after I brought in the first twenty or so.” When she’d found her first set while finding Preston and the Quincy survivors, she’d been pretty impressed. Only hours out of the vault, it provided her a mobile fortress that had saved her from a deathclaw, but quickly lost its appeal once it proved to suck down power and interfere with her attempts at stealth. “They’re pretty clunky so I don’t have much use for them, but I’d rather haul them back here than let Raiders or Gunners get ahold of them.” Also in her downtime it was nice to fix them up or paint them; when she was in her workshop no one bothered her. She spent as much time there as she could manage.

“I’ve never seen so many in one place.” Back in the capital he’d seen a couple patrols from the Brotherhood of Steel in power armor, but nothing of this magnitude. The boss was sitting on a major goldmine if she ever decided to part with her suits, but she was right about the Raiders and Gunners. In their hands, even one of these suits could cause some major destruction.

“It’s the safest place for them. Nothing’s getting past the walls.” Or the turrets, or the guards. Sanctuary Hills was probably the most well-defended place in the Commonwealth side from Diamond City and The Castle.

“Oh, I believe that.” MacCready couldn’t help but stare at her and wonder just how many layers she had. The moment he’d seen her, he’d thought she was a beautiful misfit, but that had changed when he’d seen her vault suit. From misfit to Vaultie to boss to General, she’d proved to be full of surprises, and made him nervous but almost excited to see what more she had in store. That was, if he stayed with her for long. After the two hundred was finished, he wondered if either of them would even be interested in continuing their arrangement.

The way his eyes roamed over her, gentle and searching yet guarded, made the pit of her stomach tremble and a warmth spread through her froze core. Damn it all.

“The rest of the settlement is just more houses and the water purifiers on the river.” Shuffling around him, Bryleen walked back down the stairs and headed off towards the house across from the main house. “This is my house. I need to wash up and have my meeting with Preston.” But what to do with MacCready until she was done? “Sturges!” They waited quietly for a few quiet moments until the overalled mechanic sauntered out of the main house, wiping his hands on an old rag.

“You called Boss?” He flashed them both an easy grin and leaned his hip against the red workbench. In all the wastes, she’d never met a more calming presence than Sturges. In the Museum of Freedom when everyone else was losing their minds, Sturges had been the one to come up with a plan and had guided her through it all without ever losing his cool.

“Yeah, can you keep MacCready company until after my meeting?” He knew her well enough to know the look in her eye meant keep him in Preston-free company until she was free to keep him safe again. There was nothing more valuable in the Commonwealth than a trusted friend, and Bryleen was eternally grateful that Sturges understood that lesson like she did.

“Anything for a pretty lady,” Sturges said with a nod her way. “Come on boy, let’s see if we can’t wrestle up some trouble.” Had it been anyone else, MacCready would have been more than a little concerned about walking off with a stranger, but Bryleen trusted him.

The tension that laid coiled like a snake in her gut loosened with every step that put distance between her and the men. Seeing a vulnerable side to the cocky sniper brought out her protective nature and she had been only moments away from doing something stupid like asking him about his past. While she made her way into her house to gather what she’d need for her bath, she pondered over what could have happened to him that made him so scared of the idea of a jail. Bryleen tried to tell herself that it wasn’t anything more than curiosity, but those sticky feelings of _caring_ crept up and latched onto her heart like clinging ivy.

It was impossible to reckon the harsh warrior exterior forged in the crucible of the Commonwealth with the tender and caring interior left over from her prewar existence. How was she supposed to be a feared and respected leader of the people when her heart bled over every story of hardship she came across?

Those soft feelings were washed away with a wave of anger as she took in the state of her belongings; things had been moved around, a few items were missing, and there was a layer of dirt on nearly every surface. Her face flushed with anger, burning almost hot enough to make her eyes water while she angrily stripped off her armor and pealed her vault suit off her sweat-slick skin. They’d talked about this. At length. Multiple times. Apparently, there was no getting her point through his thick head, and she mulled over that thought bitterly while she scrubbed herself down in the deep bucket of purified water she kept in her bathroom. She prayed no one else had used _it_ while she was away. After a speedy shampoo and conditioning, Bryleen unceremoniously dunked her head into the room-temperature water one final time and wrapped her fiery hair in a towel for a quick dry.

She’d cut it a few times since thawing out, and though it had grown out a bit from the last cutting, it was still short enough to dry fairly easily. The feeling of a clean towel being run over her freshly cleaned skin was almost erotic, drawing a soft moan from her mouth from the pleasure of it. Little things like this could almost make her about the war and the wastes and everything that came with them, but once the sounds of settlers broke the spell she was under, she was slammed down once more by her brewing anger.

This was going to be a long talk and likely not a pretty one, Bryleen thought to herself as she pulled on some pants and a t-shirt. The looseness of the fabric felt foreign and almost unpleasant, but she needed to wash and mend her Vault suit, so settler’s clothes would have to do.

With her hair still a bit damp, she chose to leave it down and, dawning a pair of battered loafers, she strode over to the main house, ready for war.

000

MacCready had have been listening to Sturges talk about the darn water purifiers for almost half an hour before he finally interrupted him.

“Do you think they’re done by now?” If their meeting took much longer he could probably build his _own_ purifier with his eyes blindfolded, and maybe an arm tied behind his back.

“Knowing the Boss I’d say she’s just getting started,” Sturges said with a deep chuckle. When leaders in the Gunners argued, it usually ended with blood and at least one body to scrape off the ground, but MacCready had a feeling things went a little differently with the Minutemen.

“They get into it a lot?” In their limited time together he could see how she could probably be a scrapper, and from what he knew about Preston it made a lot of sense he would get under her skin.

“Well now, I don’t wanna speak ill of anybody, but those two go at it like mirelurks and deathclaws.” Sturges ran a damp rag along the back of his neck to cool off for a moment. “Now, they’re both mighty fine people, but you see, Preston is… idealistic. He wants the Minutemen to be a strong force of black and white good, but lacks the, uh, _personality_ to make that happen. The boss on the other hand is a good, strong woman and leader, but she likes to walk in the grey area, and that, my friend, is what makes ‘em clash.”

“So how’d the two of them team up?” If the two disagreed so much, it didn’t make much sense for them to be working together.

“Well now, you’d have to ask one of them for the particulars, but I get the feeling he didn’t give her much of a choice.” MacCready had suspected as much, but it was interesting to hear it from another person. “The boss helped us out of a pinch in Concord a while back and just sort of stuck. She made us this place, and we owe her a lot.” From Sturges, that actually sounded genuine. Aside from that Carol woman from Oberland, Sturges was the first person who’d voiced appreciation for Bryleen.

“Sounds like it’s been a rough gig for her.” She hadn’t exactly been sneaky about her upset with the Minutemen, but seeing how much effort she’d put in, he could easily understand how she’d be ticked.

“Folks here can be pretty demanding, and she’s a big ol’ softie who wants them to be happy.” Slinging his rag over his shoulder, Sturges nodded toward the main house and started walking back that way.

“She’s a regular Robin Hood, is she?” No one was that nice for no reason, but he figured he’d find out her angle after they’d traveled for a while. “I think Robin Hood is giving ol’ Preston a what for.” The closer they got, the louder the sound of Bryleen’s irate voice grew. They’d stopped between the workshop and the main house, close enough to hear her angry words yet far enough that they couldn’t be easily seen.

“ _It was so simple Preston. All you had to do was add_ four _feet of fencing!_ ” Sturges grimaced at the verbal lashing, yet made no move to go save Preston from her wrath.

“ _The layout wasn’t clear, General. I didn’t want to mess it up._ ” Maybe it was his own personal bias, but MacCready swore he could hear a little whining edge in Preston’s voice.

“ _I_ personally _gave you verbal instructions before I left. I told you where to get the pickets and the wire and how far to go out from the existing fence_. _And that was before I wrote it all down._ ” If that was true, that meant she had every right to be angry. Glancing Sturge’s way for confirmation of these new found facts, MacCready only received a confused shrug.

“ _We got kind of busy here, General._ ” Based on the quieting of his voice, it was pretty clear that Bryleen had caught him in his bull crap.

“ _Busy doing what?_ ” Her voice raised an octave with her outrage. “ _What do you people do here besides farm and scavenge? Do you go out and protect the settlements? Do you manage the supply line? And if you’re so damn busy, how do you people still find the time to rummage through my house?_ ” At that, both men perked up a little more, eager to hear what would happen next.

“ _We have nothing to hide here, Miss Nora._ ” MacCready felt a flair of indignation _for_ her. While she was out bringing more people to the cause, Preston was letting people go through her house and that was all he had to say on the matter?

“ _We had a deal Preston. If you can’t uphold that and if you don’t start putting in some effort around here, I’ll be making some changes around here._ ” There was some shuffling around and the men caught a glimpse of a very frustrated red-headed General with Preston hot on her heels.

“Now Miss Nora-.” She wasn’t having any of it and rounded on him, color riding high in her cheeks, with one of her slender fingers jabbing into his chest.

“That’s _General_ to you Preston, and I mean it. If there aren’t some changes made around here _I’ll_ change things, and I’m not discussing the matter any further.” Mouth open in disbelief, Preston stared at her like he was waiting for her to change her mind or even apologize, but Sturges and MacCready had a pretty good feeling that definitely wasn’t going to happen. A long stretch of silence followed, but Bryleen stood her ground, staring with unrelenting determination into his eyes. MacCready wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so impressive, with such unwavering steel in their spine.

Realizing his defeat, Preston narrowed his eyes just a hint; not enough to constitute a glare, but enough to let her know she’d gotten under his skin. Turning on his feet, Preston strode off towards the main gate without another word of argument.

Bryleen remained where she stood, taking in a couple calming breaths. The tightly coiled tension in her shoulders slowly unwound. MacCready couldn't help but watch her, and appreciate how her sharp edges smoothed out. Right in the middle of his staring, she turned around and saw them watching her, and there was no point denying that they had been. A new blush seeped over her guilty face.

“So, uh, who’s hungry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I’m so sorry for the delay! We had sort of an emergency situation at work so that has taken up a lot of my mental capacity, but here it is, chapter 6. If you like the chapter, please feel free to drop a comment or leave kudos; they are lifeblood for authors. 
> 
> Please enjoy!


	7. Drinking Buddies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the tense fight with Preston, Sturges, Bryleen, and MacCready share a meal, some alcohol, and maybe a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purpose of expediency, I included companion dialogue from later in the game between the MC and MacCready. Please don't hate me for speeding things up a little.

Sitting in Bryleen’s once-again clean living room several hours later, MacCready mentally adjusted his list of her traits again. After the incident with Preston, she seemed to have forgotten all her anger and instead focused on feeding him and Sturges. He was still in awe that she did so seemingly just because she wanted to, and that she didn’t charge him anything for it.

In the Gunners, it was made clear to him from the get go that if he wanted to eat, he had to find his own dang food or starve. Countless nights he’d come back from a mission or patrol and pass out with his stomach empty and angry because he didn’t have the energy to cook himself anything. Now here he was sitting in a clean house on a soft sofa, stomach full with tasty Brahmin meet and Gwinnet Stout listening to his new boss and Sturges gab about random crap.

“Boss, you sure you aren’t missing some bolts in that head of yours?” Sturges chided as she recounted her earlier run in with the super mutants. She only shrugged her shoulders and curled her socked feet under herself.

“What was I supposed to do? A couple more seconds and there might not have been an Oberland Station anymore.” That much was true, but Sturges wasn’t quite ready to let it drop.

“Yeah, if you didn’t get help right away, there might not have been a General anymore.” Instead of being regretful like MacCready imagined she might, he snickered as Bryleen stuck her little pink tongue out at the mechanic.

“And who was it exactly who went up against _four_ raiders with nothing but four rounds in a 10mm pistol and a pipe wrench?” Raising a ruddy brow his direction, Bryleen sipped on the remnants of her glass of wine, waiting for him to come up with some sort of rebuttal. Now that she’d turned the tables, she relaxed further down into her easy chair with a self-satisfied smile.

“Well, now,” he stuttered out, clearly having been caught, “this isn’t about me.” Both MacCready and Bryleen noted that the redness coming up Sturges’s neck certainly _wasn’t_ a sunburn. “Besides, I wasn’t _alone_ you stubborn woman.”

“Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t alone. This time. I had this yahoo and the settlers.” Mentioning the sharpshooter, Bryleen stole a glance his way, regretting almost immediately as her eyes took in the way he relaxed on her sofa, his wiry legs propped up on the ottoman next to Sturges’s with a beer in hand and a ghost of a smile on his lips. As much as her brain wanted to dismiss him, she found it impossible to keep him completely from her thoughts when she was already waist-deep into a bottle of wine. After seeing his frozen in fear earlier by the workshop, that overly curious part of her wouldn’t let it go; it wanted to find out _exactly_ what made him tick.

_It’s just the wine talking_ , Bryleen told herself dismissively. Surely after a few days of traveling together, the newness would wear off and he’d just be another average Joe. There was no way he was really as interesting as her brain wanted to think.

“I took about two or three of them down,” MacCready said to no one in particular. She might have been able to stack some points against him if he’d been bragging, but he wasn’t, just stating the facts as they were. It was pretty obvious that he was proud of his skills as he should be, but couldn’t he at least showboat a little for her sake? When Sturges got up to refresh his bourbon, she held out her glass and gave him a mildly pouty look. For a moment she thought he’d leave her to her own devices after her comment, but he took pity on her and grabbed her glass. Her thanks came in the form of a mock-flirty wink in his direction that made him chuckle.

“Only for you, Boss.” They watched him walk to the island counter to prepare their drinks, and then MacCready turned his attention back to her.

“So, you impressed yet?” His blue eyes now held just the barest hint of cockiness that made her cheeks go warm. “I told you I was a damn good shot.” A tiny pinch of guilt hit him when the swear word came out of his mouth, but the Gwinnet had done a good job loosening things up. God knows he didn’t drink like he used to, and this was a rare indulgence these days since he rarely felt safe enough to let his guard down. Bryleen could prove to be dangerous in ways he hadn’t even truly considered when he took the job. Her green eyes widened just a hint, and her mouth gently parted with a surprised laugh.

“Actually, I’m quite impressed.” From the splashes of color across her cheeks and the ease of her smile, MacCready could tell that her wine was doing to her what the stout was doing to him. That, however, didn’t stop him from sitting up a bit straighter under her praise.

“Yeah…” He chuckled to shrug off his haze of embarrassment when Sturges came back with her drink. “I thought you might be.” Something about her made him feel like a boy again, seeking the approval of people he looked up to. In their hours together he was hard pressed to find a reason _not_ to admire her. Sure she was a vaultie, but she had a strength to her that was almost enviable. And it didn’t hurt that she wasn’t Preston Garvey’s biggest fan.

“Where’d you learn?” With another glass of wine and RadAway in her grasp, she decided that, despite her initial hesitation toward him, she wanted to get to know him a little better. _Just some friendly coworker chitchat_ , her logic brain told her while the wine-soaked part was contemplating how restrictive her clothes were.

“I’m completely self-taught, you know. Picked up a sniper rifle when I was ten and I never looked back.” Even back then, there had been people he needed to protect, people weaker than him who depended partly on him to keep them safe. “Always thought it was smarter to hit my targets at long range. I mean, why take chances, right?” For a second, MacCready was back in that tunnel, standing atop the lookout spot watching for anything coming down into his home. Back then the rifle he carried had felt so heavy, not just due to his age, but due to its meaning. When he was on his shift, that rifle was the only thing besides a gate standing between an intruder and the other kids. “Besides, I had to come up with every trick in the book to survive the Capital Wasteland.” While MacCready was knee deep in his memories, Bryleen was imagining what it would be like for her son to be fighting so young. It seemed so wrong to think of the little boy she’d seen in Kellogg’s memories armed and ready to fight.

“I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been out there.” Unconsciously, she hugged the pillow in her lap a little tighter as though she could take away the suffering of the child he’d once been. The wine must have had more of an influence on her than she thought because soon she found her eyes going misty.

“Well, at least I wasn’t alone.” Another swig of stout had him questioning why he was telling her so much, but he was feeling too good to _really_ think too much about it. “Lived underground in a place called Little Lamplight with a bunch of other kids. Left there when I was about sixteen.” Hadn’t been his choice, but rules were rules. “We kind of had a policy there… no adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left.” In his case he’d had to guess his age, they’d elected to let him stay until the anniversary of his seventh year there since when he first showed up he was probably about nine.

Bryleen couldn’t help but give him a curious look that he’d seen plenty of times before; wouldn’t having strong adults around only be beneficial?

“I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, “but having adults around was something we couldn’t trust.” Mulling that information around, Bryleen too another deep sip of wine and conceded that they might have been onto something. Thinking back on all the destruction _adults_ had brought to the world, yeah, she could definitely see how trusting a kid’s judgement might be the better option.

“Pretty brave, a bunch of kids living alone like that.” A huge part of her hoped that Shaun could be that brave wherever he was. She fervently hoped that he got enough of his father’s spirit and her tenacity to keep going until she could find him.

“I don’t know. Looking back on the whole thing, I think we were just lucky.” How else could he explain a colony of kids surviving for two hundred years underground? MacCready counted himself extremely lucky to even be alive after all the crud he’d been through and seen. He saw her serious expression and felt another pull of guilt in his gut for getting heavy with the details of his so-called childhood.

“Anyways, when I was sixteen, I ended up wandering the Capital Wasteland for a while. Took the odd job here and there, but things were pretty hot with the Brotherhood of Steel running the show.” The cult of power-armored purists made even the most seasoned wastelanders nervous. “So I hitched a ride with a caravan and made my way north until I ended up here. Made a pretty decent name for myself before I heard the Gunners needed some sharpshooters.” Sitting in front of him, he could see every flicker of emotion crossing Bryleen’s face, but at the mention of the Gunners, he had to cast a sidelong glance at Sturges to gauge his reaction. If the mechanic felt anything about the conversation, it never showed; his face remained as calm as ever. “Biggest mistake of my life.” That was something he’d always thought, but rarely admitted out loud. Back when the allure of money still held him, he could easily make excuses to justify what he was doing, but that faded away pretty fast once the jobs started taking a hard left.

“They were animals. Killed anything that moved if it got in their way. I went with it for a while, because the caps were good. But I dunno, I guess it started to catch up with me… so I quit.” The black marks on his soul kept stacking up and he just couldn’t live in that lie anymore. Now he tried to be a decent person, or as decent as a sharpshooter could be, but there were always people like Preston who only saw his past. “Which pretty much brings us to now. So there you have it, my whole life in a nutshell.” With his long-winded and beer-fueled confessions out of the way, all he could do was watch her and see how she’d react. The gears in her mind cranked away despite the fog of wine, and he was nervous to see what conclusion she’d come to after all of this.

“Sounds like,” she started, and he could hear her words slur just barely, “the road can be a lonely place… until you meet someone to share it with.” Had he not just met her only a few hours ago he could have sworn it sounded like she was… flirting with him. Once again, he blamed it on the booze, but that didn’t stop his heart from skipping a few beats.

“I… well I never thought of it that way.” He’d rarely trusted anyone long enough to get close, but it was so hard _not_ feel friendly with her. “Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable telling you all of this.” The spots on her cheeks flamed even more, making it harder to blame this on the wine she’d drank. “Look, I know I _can_ tend to be a pain in the ass… I mean I know I tend to be arrogant and I come off like I want to be alone.” Prime example being this afternoon when they’d met. He hadn’t been Mr. Nice Guy talking to her, but that wasn’t always him. “Nothing could be further from the truth. Being alone scares the heck out of me. Now that it looks like we might be traveling together for a while, I’m beginning to realize how much I missed having someone I could depend on.” Heck, he hadn’t meant to say all that. It was too freaking early to start in on that sort of talk, but he couldn’t hold back between the effects of the alcohol and the way her slightly hazy green eyes watched him. There would be some serious back tracking in the morning…

“I just wanted you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to see that it stays this way.” Quickly downing the rest of his beer, he hauled himself off the couch and went to the back door to throw his bottle away in the bin just outside. “Well that’s all I had to say. Hope you got something out of all that. I know I did.” Those last words were whispered, and he hoped she didn’t hear them. Don’t have more than one beer, was the lesson he wanted to believe he got out of this, but unluckily it went deeper than that. That Bryleen was trustworthy and kind was what he’d really gotten from his word-vomit session, and that was both a comfort and a hazard. God, he hoped she was too wine-drunk to remember any of this in the morning. He ignored his own advice and grabbed one final beer, hoping to scramble his memory good.

Snuggled up in her chair, Bryleen was having very similar thoughts, though she was much drunker than she wanted to admit. To hear what he’d been through as a child brought up so many of the worries she’d had about Shaun ever since her talk with Kellogg; were they feeding him? Was he fighting like MacCready had had to? How safe was he? She had too many questions and not enough answers, but she was doing what she could, following what leads she had to get Shaun back. Draining the last of the contents in her wineglass, she set it down on the floor and sank further into her thoughts.

“You going to bed soon Boss? I’m sure you have a busy day ahead.” MacCready wondered how she would react to Sturges not-so-subtly telling her to go to sleep; he expected her to give a cutting comment, or at least grumble about it. In a surprise move, the sadness melted from her expression and she gave him a sweet, if drunken, smile and held her hand out to Sturges.

“Help me up?” He smirked and set his bourbon on the side table next to him. MacCready sat back and watched as the mechanic walked over to Bryleen and gently helped her to her feet; she stood just fine, but her first step sent her swaying into Sturges. From the amused look on his face, this wasn’t his first rodeo. With one arm around her back, Sturges dipped down and swept her off her feet with a firm arm behind her knees. Bryleen sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to carry her off to her room.

As he watched them leave down the hallway, MacCready began to wonder if she and the mechanic were an item. Bryleen seemed to be completely comfortable around the man, but then again she had seemed the same way with Hancock. He had to admit, he’d seen Hancock flirt with a lot of woman in his time, but never in the easy, almost lazy way he did with Bryleen. Far be it from him to judge, but was it possible she was with both of them? Deep in his pondering, MacCready didn’t even notice Sturges coming back in the room until he’d passed in front of him to collect Bryleen’s glass.

There was a long silence, heavy with MacCready’s questions hanging between them. Sturges seemed unfazed by the quiet as he moved effortlessly around her kitchen, putting things away like he knew exactly where they went; like he’d done it a millions times before. He was definitely familiar with her home in a way that made it seem obvious that they were more than friends.

“What’s on your mind MacCready?” Called out like that, MacCready couldn’t stop himself from choking a little on his swig of beer. Sturges gave him a friendly smile, punctuated by a chuckle when he saw MacCready’s face. “Now I might talk slow, but that doesn’t mean my mind’s slow too. You’ve been stewing all night.” He wasn’t wrong. Everything Bryleen did made him wonder. Who was she? What was she really like?

“Does this happen a lot?” Vague enough to not seem too interested, and open-ended enough for Sturges to lead the conversation from there. Sturges didn’t return to his seat on the sofa, but instead took Bryleen’s recently vacated seat.

“The boss getting mighty tipsy? Not really, only a handful of times since we met.” She didn’t seem the type to get drunk all the time, but MacCready had only known her for hours compared to Sturges’s months. The image of her tightly wrapped in Sturges’s arms and whatever that implied refused to leave him though.

“You guys must be pretty close.” Drinking buddies weren’t an uncommon sight here in the Commonwealth, but he’d never seen them carrying each other around.

“If you’ve got a question, just come out and ask it.” There was no hesitation in Sturges’s voice, and his warm brown eyes were calm and trained on MacCready. _Geez that’s unnerving_ , MacCready thought. There was no beating around the bush with the mechanic, which was something he could admire, even as it made his palms sweat. Swallowing hard, MacCready decided to dive right in. 

“Are you two together?” As soon as the question was out there, Sturges let out an amused snort, shaking his head in a noncommittal gesture.

“You’ve been wondering that this whole time?” When put like that it did sound ridiculous. MacCready wasn’t some love sick teenager anymore, but he felt a little defensive; he hadn’t really even noticed women for the last two years, so he was in practically uncharted territory. A shoulder shrug was his way of shoving those emotions away, and he regarded Sturges with a cool façade.

“Just trying to figure her out.” Trying to figure out who she was connected to, and what those connections were. If, and that was a monster-sized if, he got closer to her on the road, he didn’t want a jealous lover coming after him. Come to think of it, the idea of her with someone didn’t sit right in his gut, but he blamed that on the beer and her pretty face.

“If you do figure her out, let me know. I’ve known her almost a year and I still feel like she’s a stranger at times.” He’d scooped up the pillow Bryleen had been holding and ran his fingers over it like he was feeling her touch. MacCready sat motionless, patiently waiting for Sturges to answer the question; he didn’t have to wait long. “The boss and I are not an item. Don’t get me wrong I admire the hell out of her; she’s kind, smart, stubborn, strong, and you’d have to be blind not to see how beautiful she is, but she’s got a lot of hurt in her. I’m good to pick her up when she’s down, to make sure she ends up in her own bed, and to back her up in a fight, but I’m not the man for her.” Every bit of his affection for her showed in his eyes, and he didn’t bother to hide it; the merc could see that Sturges loved her, and loved her deeply, but not in the way that he’d assumed. It reminded him of his relationship with Lucy from Little Lamplight. He’d loved her as much as a child could love another child, but even once they’d grown up, that love had never turned romantic.

“She’s lucky to have you.” This time there was no hint of anything besides sincerity in his voice.

“I’d say I’m pretty lucky too, but like I said, she’s got a lot of hurt. I only know a little of her problems, but I figure you two might cotton to each other after traveling together.” Sturges got up from his seat to retrieve a spare blanket and pillow from her storage room. Handing them off to MacCready, he then went and washed his glass. “It’s no sure thing, but if she does talk to you, be kind.” Even with the beer-haze, MacCready could realize how important this was to the other man. “Miss Nora has a good heart, and I don’t think you need to be told not to break it.” With that said, Sturges said his goodbye and shut the doors before making his own way to his room in the main house. MacCready laid on the couch, covered by the sweet-smelling blanket, and thought about everything that was said there that night. He imagined the way Bryleen’s hair had curled as it dried, the way her cheeks flushed, and the way her eyes seemed to light up. She was everything Sturges said and more, but he had doubts about whether he would ever be close enough to her for her to share her troubles. As he drifted off, he remembered seeing the hurt buried deep behind her lovely smile, he wondered if _anyone_ would ever be able to get close to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing Sturges! We'll see him a lot in the story, so I wanted him to immediately show his depth. No messing around for him, he knows what he's about.


	8. One Step At a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up from a night of drinking, Bryleen tries to fill in the holes of her memory.

The morning light streamed through a crack in the curtains, hitting her right in the eyes. If Sturges hadn’t practically force-fed her a “refreshing beverage” before she went to bed, she imagined that she would have one monster of a headache.

“No more drinking,” she muttered, grimacing from the taste of her morning breath. Bryleen might not have been hungover, but when she tried to recall the last night’s events, everything was hazy. It was hard to recall memories when her brain wasn’t forming them. Somewhere deep in the haze, she could remember talking to MacCready and Sturges, but not exactly what she had said. In her mind’s eye, she could see MacCready sitting across from her watching her from under the brim of his cap. A phantom heat spread through her stomach as the partial memory lingered. _What the hell did I do_? A ragged groan tore out of her throat as she collapsed back on the bed. Why did she have to get drunk in front of _him_?

Sturges was the only one she really wanted to ask about what happened, so she hopped up and pulled on her vault suit that she’d mended before the drinking had started the night before. She’d though many times about wearing something different under her armor, something less question attracting, but she couldn’t bring herself to retire it. Who she was now was directly linked to Vault 111 and what had happened there; the suit served as a reminder of what she’d lost and what she was working towards.

After lacing up her boots, Bryleen tiptoed over to the bathroom to brush her hair and teeth; maybe she would feel more at ease when she was tidy. The RadAway infused toothpaste burned ever so slightly while she scrubbed her teeth, but that was better than becoming irradiated or having her teeth rotting. The idea of a dentist in this post-apocalyptic world was completely ridiculous like the thought of a bakery or functional super market. _Damn it I miss decent food_ , she thought wistfully as she drew her brush through her wavy hair. Maybe she’d get word from Jack soon…

She debated going through her bedroom window to avoid seeing MacCready just yet, but that was the coward’s way out, and she wouldn’t stoop to that level in her own home, so she made her way to the living room, only to find MacCready still snoozing on her couch. Somehow he’d ended up with one of her spare blankets, but she was glad he hadn’t been cold in the night. The sound of the opening door had him stirring a smidge, his blue eyes fluttering just barely. Thankfully he stayed asleep as she slipped out, heading towards the main house.

At five-thirty in the morning, she didn’t really expect anyone to be awake, but Mama Murphy was sitting in her chair watching Preston cooking something on the stove that smelled almost halfway appetizing. She squared her shoulders and walked past him to Sturges’s room, but he wasn’t there, of course. On her way out she could feel Preston’s eyes wander over her, silent questions on his face.

Bryleen felt much better after a good meal and a decent night’s sleep, but unease coiled in her gut remembering the fight they’d had. While she was content to leave him be, he apparently wasn’t of the same mind.

“General? Could I have a word?” He called out to her as she was walking out. Her teeth bit into her lower lip to stifle a heavy sigh. Just what could he possibly have to say now? Nodding her assent, Bryleen wordlessly moved around the corner under the carport to give them a little more privacy. Preston hadn’t put on his duster yet, and without it and his hat, he looked just like any other settler; she could almost forget the fact that he was the poster child for the Minutemen and usually a thorn in her side.

Her very first impression of him after the initial shock of their initial meeting had been that he was a handsome, if a little timid, man. Being the first semblance of order she’d come across in the wastes, she couldn’t help but latch onto him and the Minutemen to help get her bearings in the new world, but the more she grew and changed, the more disillusioned she became until Preston only served as an embodiment of the stagnation the Minutemen seemed to be mired in.

“What is it Preston?” Today was a fresh day, she reminded herself. She carefully kept any sharp edges out of her tone, unwilling to start a fight so early in the morning. From the way he was wringing his hands together, she could tell he was nervous, but she couldn’t tell _what_ he was nervous about. He looked at her face, but wasn’t quite able to meet her eyes; it looked like he was probably focusing his gaze on the top of her ear.

“I wanted to…to apologize. I thought a lot about what you said, and I’m sorry for not following your instructions.” It surprised her to hear him apologize, and her face betrayed her attempts at neutrality by raising her brows and parting her lips with her mild shock. “When you’re not here I just worry about getting things wrong.” The rest of the settlements had expressed similar worries, but _they_ had taken it in stride when she pointed out that _she_ wasn’t the one who was living there. From that point on, the settlers had taken it upon themselves to take what she’d provided and make it their own.

“Preston, you’re the leader of Sanctuary. When I’m not here, I really need you to step up to the plate.” The baseball reference completely went over his head, so she revised her comment with a sigh. “You _need_ to take responsibility when I’m not here. I shouldn’t need to be worrying when I’m on the road whether or not my instructions are being followed.” And most times she didn’t because the other settlers saw the need to carry their own weight; they recognized that she was just one woman who couldn’t take care of everything at one time.

“Maybe if you stayed in Sanctuary more…” His words trailed off with a soft near-sigh that made her want to laugh.

“You can’t have it both ways Preston. I can’t live here full time and defend the settlements like you want me to; I need to stay on the road.” Eventually, the plan was to settle down when the settlements were self-sufficient or when she found Shaun, whichever came first, but when she did, she doubted that she would make her home in Sanctuary.

“I guess that makes sense, but why did you pick _him_ up?” The scathing tone left no room for doubt of who he was talking about. “If you need help… well, maybe I can go with you,” he said hopefully, and his eyes lit up with the possibility. That, however, was never going to happen, and she couldn’t see a point in letting him hope it would.

“Preston, you’re needed here,” she explained softly. “They depend on you.” From what she’d seen, that wasn’t exactly true; the settlers usually looked to Sturges or tried to get by on their own before they’d go to him for help. So while she wasn’t telling the truth, it seemed the best way to let him down easily.

“I just thought… Miss Nora, why are you with him? I mean, why are you traveling with _him_?” Upset lanced through his words, and her eyes drifted closed while she forced her breath out evenly. It had been hard enough admitting to Daisy that she was lonely; she would never say those words to Preston, and quite frankly he didn’t even need to know.

“Well, I sure didn’t plan this, but I was passing through Goodneighbor and I just sort of hired him. I told you that yesterday.” Condensed version, skipping over all the important parts that she’d gone over with Daisy, but good enough. She didn’t need to know the ins and outs of his life, so why did he feel it necessary to know hers?

Those familiar brown eyes began to heat up again, making her wonder when he was going to explode. She waited forever, but the moment never came. After the tension built and roiled between them for several long moments, finally easing when Preston let lose a terse sigh.

“You don’t know anything about him,” Preston chastised her, his voice dripping with a combination of residual anger and budding exhaustion. “Nora, you don’t know what he _is_.” The conversation was stale by this point.

“I do know, Preston; you made that abundantly clear yesterday.” Everyone had heard about MacCready’s past thanks to him.

“A _Gunner_ , Nora: He _kills_ people for money.” That was a slap in the face for her that made her face go hot. Who the hell was _he_ to make moral judgments?

“And how is that any different from me?” The settlements paid her when she protected them, which normally included killing at least a few Gunners, Raiders, or Mutants. If she’d tried to keep a body count, her mind would probably spontaneously combust. Ruddy flush crept up his cheeks, and he sputtered helplessly.

“You’re-. You don’t-. That’s different Nora, you’re-.”

“I’m _what_ Preston?” She cut him off sharply, trying to keep her voice stern but relatively low to not wake anyone. “I’m good? I’m better than him?” Scoffing at him, Bryleen whirled away. “Spare me. We’ll be gone in an hour.” So much for a normal conversation. Since Sturges wasn’t in his room, she was pretty certain he’d be repairing something somewhere, so she followed the distant sound of hammer strikes to the fence by the water purifiers.

“Well good morning to you too,” Sturges chuckled as soon as Bryleen slammed her back against the wall next to where he was working. Reading her expression, Sturges stopped his work and leaned his shoulder against the same spot he was working on. “Not even six in the morning and you’re already up to your ears in it aren’t you?” Had it been anyone else chuckling at her frustration, she might have lashed out, but after all he’d done for her, she figured Sturges had earned the right to rib her.

“What is his problem?” Bryleen muttered as she rubbed her temples to ease the tension Preston had brought out in her. “I know Gunners are usually the bad guys, I’ve killed plenty of them, but he’s not like that.” Thus far, MacCready was pretty helpful and generally kind to her. She wasn’t about to bet everything on him, but she also wasn’t going to judge him based on his past.

“Now, that’s a big kettle of fish.” Normally nothing appeared to bother Sturges, but now he was fidgeting with his hammer, sighing heavily like a weight was being pressed into his chest. Everything in his body language told her he knew something more about the situation than he was letting on.

“Sturges?” Pushing off the wall, Bryleen faced him, dipping down a little to see his face. “What aren’t you telling me?” Secrets didn’t make friends, which is what he’d told her the second time she’d gotten drink in front of him. A light touch on his arm brought his eyes to hers where she pleaded with him to tell her what he knew. He pulled away from her, taking a few moments to pace with his hands raking through his hair.

“I’ve seen him before, at Quincy.” The mention of his old home made Bryleen flinch. “A few days before the Massacre a group of ‘em showed up, telling us to leave or they’d come back and make us. He was at the back of the group, but I remember him by his hat and duster.” Imagining MacCready _with_ the Gunners, standing behind them, was difficult to reconcile, but she knew if it came from Sturges that it was the truth.

“That bastard lied to me; he told me he wasn’t a part of the Massacre.” He had sounded so sincere, so haunted by the tragedy that she’d believed him. Now, she could understand Preston’s reaction, and damn it all, she’d have to get to the bottom of this. Bryleen started to storm off to demand some answers from MacCready but she hardly got a few feet before Sturges was reacting out to grab her.

“That’s the rub of it, Nora; I honestly don’t think he was there.”

“But how do you know? You _saw_ him there, Sturges. Who the hell am I supposed to trust here?” God, the confusion of it all was about to trigger a migraine. Oddly enough, her heart squeezed at the thought of MacCready killing those settlers, of him lying to her about it. It was stupid, so stupid of her to want to trust him.

“You gotta stop leaping to conclusions so fast, one of these days you’re gonna miss your mark completely and be in a world of trouble.” He spoke so softly that it doused her anger like a bucket of cold water. Her shoulders dropped with her sighing breath, and she cast a tired and confused look his way.

“Am I making a mistake, Sturges? Traveling with him?” This was shaping up to be one of the most careless things she’d ever done, and in the light of day, she was struggling against the rising tide of turmoil within her.

“As much as Preston would love to have me agree with him, no, I don’t actually think it’s such a bad idea,” Sturges told her after a few seconds of pondering. “I think it’s quite the opposite if I’m being honest.” That was so unexpected, Bryleen couldn’t help but let her jaw go slack with surprise.

“And here I thought you were usually the sane one around here.” Sturges just laughed that comment off in his usually easygoing way, but it wasn’t long before he quieted back down to a more serious state, which usually foreshadowed a stern talking to.

“I’m plenty sane, and after seeing you together last night, I stand by opinion.” _Last night_. After her fight with Preston, she had completely forgotten the reason she was searching for Sturges. _Oh, hell_.

“What did I do?” She couldn’t help but groan in embarrassment. Her clothes had been on when she woke up, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t either taken them off or tried to get them off during her binge drinking session. Or had it been worse than that? Had she come onto either of them? All the horrifying possibilities steeped in her head, souring her expression so much that Sturges was struggling to hold back his laughter.

“Hey now, calm down; you didn’t do anything crazy.” Sweet relief coursed through her veins. Knees weak now, Bryleen slid down the junk wall into a crouch, hoping to brace herself lest she just collapse on the ground. If things kept up like this she’d have a heart attack before the week was out. _Pull yourself together_ , her brain demanded.

“Okay, so what actually happened?”

“You talked,” he said simply with a soft smile curling the corners of his mouth. He crouched down next to her, letting his shoulder bump gently against hers. “That’s all. You two just talked for a while. You might have flirted just a little, but nothing embarrassing.” The account he gave her definitely soothed the raw edges of her nerves. He never lied to her, so she took his words in good faith.

“We only talked, and you’ve already drawn this conclusion?” No matter how hard she pushed her mind, she couldn’t get more than little snippets of their conversation to resurface out of the thick wine fog.

‘ _Maybe that’s why I feel so comfortable telling you all of this_.’ What ‘all of this’ meant, she had no idea, but she could see him. MacCready’s face in that moment was fuzzy in her memory, but she could still make out the way his eyes had locked onto her; his bright blue eyes had roamed her face in a touchless caress; when most everything in the memory blew away like chaff, his eyes remained, spreading a warmth over her.

“I’m not going to give you a whole rundown, but yeah.” He nudged her playfully when he noticed her blushing. “It wasn’t even what you said really, more like _how_ you said it. You were so relaxed, so calm. Even with booze in your system, you’ve never been like that with Preston or any of the settlers.” While she could have argued that it was his presence there that had calmed her, or that she hadn’t ever been quite so drunk around others, but there was no point. This was _different_ , and that terrified her.

“Sturges, what am I going to do?” The potential for so many different paths had her quaking, but she remembered what she’d said to Daisy. Bryleen was lonely, and the thought of walking back into the wastes alone was completely harrowing. Taking him with her would be a very big test of her willpower. At every opportunity, she would be forcing herself to _not_ get close to him. He’d told her he wasn’t out to make friends, and she would see that it stayed that way.

Sturges stood up next to her and immediately grabbed her arms, pulling her off the ground. Half-expecting him to scold her, it shocked the hell out of her when he wrapped her up in an easy hug. This kind of embrace reminded her of a father hugging his overwrought child; it might have been patronizing to anyone else, but she sank into it, drawing in his calm. Before the war she had never needed people like this. It had been nice to have friends to chat with and have parties with, but she’d never felt this bone-deep need for friendship. Her gratitude for Sturges and his acceptance of her reluctant dependence on him was her greatest comfort.

“First off, you’re going to stop over-thinking this, and don’t bother scowling at me, I know how those wheels turn in your head.” His chin pressed against the top of her head and his words stopped her in her tracks as she was about to give him a nasty look. “Second, you’re going to remember that you’re a badass lady who doesn’t need to be scared; any person who takes on a suicider at five feet has nerves of steel. And thirdly, just roll with the punches. There’s no way to know _what_ might happen, but don’t go ruining potential because you’re scared and stubborn.” Bryleen couldn’t help but sigh, burying her face in his neck. Leave it to Sturges to both bolster her and chide her in the same few sentences, but she could appreciate his methods.

“How do always seem to know exactly what to say?” Drawing back, she stared up into his familiar eyes. Deep in her heart she knew she loved Sturges, but it would never grow past that a sibling sort of love, something that almost made her sad.

“I guess I just have a way with words.” He finally released her, taking a hold of her shoulders and turning her towards her house. “If he’s not awake yet, go wake him up, eat some breakfast, and be on your way before Preston finds something else for you to do.” Before giving her a little push, Sturges leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Just in case I don’t see you before you leave,” he whispered, and with that, he sent her on her way.

On the walk back to her house, she brooded over everything she had taken in. Her memories, or lack thereof, warred with the calm Sturges imparted on her, but she ultimately gave into Sturges’s words. All these months she’d been so strong, braver than she ever thought she was capable of, and this one merc was _not_ going to tie her in knots. She had too much to worry about with Shaun still missing and keeping the settlements safe to be eaten up over the _possibility_ that something might happen. Sturges said roll with the punches, and that’s what she would do.

This time she didn’t bother to be stealthy as she opened the door, and to her delight, she didn’t need to be. MacCready had already awoken and was in the process of folding the blanket he’d used the night before when she walked in. His eyes looked a little hazy, like he might be still feeling the affects of all the Gwinnett he’d drank, and she sympathized with that. It wasn’t really fair to let him suffer through his hangover, so she went to the fridge and pulled out one of her remaining ‘refreshing beverages’.

He eyed it with a little caution, suspicious of the beer bottle packaging, but Bryleen put it in his hands, trading it for the blanket so she could put it back in the storage room. MacCready took one large sip and grimaced hard at the flavor.

“Ugh, this stuff tastes like crap.” Try as she might, she couldn’t help but chuckle at his pain. His assessment of the drink was pretty spot on, and his face betrayed exactly how bad it really was.

“Sorry for that, but I promise it’ll make you feel better.” It probably couldn’t erase all the traces of the previous nights drinking, but at least he’d be better able to function. “After you finish that I have some extra tooth brushes and paste in the bathroom if you want to get the taste out of your mouth.” While he sat back on the couch to nurse his drink, Bryleen busied herself around the kitchen, preparing some quick razorgrain porridge. It would have to be savory since she didn’t have any sugar; the lack of sweets in this new world had always been something she hated, but what could she do about it?

Spooning them each out a large serving, Bryleen carried both bowls back into the living room, sitting next to him instead of across as she had the night before.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she warned him just in time to stop him from taking a heaping molten bite. The drink seemed to be working it’s magic on him, and only a few minutes later he was gazing at her with crystal clear eyes.

“Never had something like this before, but it’s good,” MacCready commented on between bites. “You’re a really good cook.”

“Thanks. Gotta stay fed somehow.” Though feeding _her_ was a feat in and of itself. Just after she’d exited the vault, Bryleen dropped a significant amount of weight due to her disgust over wasteland food, but she’d all too obviously solved that problem and filled back out.

Occasionally she found herself staring into the mirror, critically cataloging the changes her body had undergone since the thaw, but those moments were becoming few and far between with how often she was traveling.

MacCready finished first, but waited until offered seconds to make any sort of move. “Are you sure? No one else needs fed?” It seemed like such an automatic response, that Bryleen wanted to ask him about it, but there wasn’t enough time really get into a conversation at the moment, so she just nodded his way and finished her own bowl.

“I’m going to restock my backpack and gear up, but as soon as you’re done we’ll head out.” The sooner they left, the sooner she could get away from Preston.

On her way back to her bedroom, she cast a longing glance at Shaun’s room, wishing she had more time to linger. If things hadn’t gotten so messy with Preston, she would have stayed maybe another day or two, spent some time sitting in the nursery where she felt the closest to her family, but that wasn’t the case this trip.

With a practiced efficiency, Bryleen got strapped back into her various pieces of armor and checked her supplies in her backpack. Enough stims and purified water to revive a legion, and plenty of ammo for whatever weapon she needed. She really should be taking MacCready to the market, but time was wearing thin and she wasn’t about to let Preston prove her a liar. Besides, whatever MacCready needed, she could give him from her own stores.

“All finished, Boss.” At his cue, she headed back to the living room, but not before grabbing something from the trunk at the foot of the bed. He was standing at the sink, rinsing his bowl and spoon, and when he turned to her, she tossed him a backpack.

“That’ll be handy on the road.” She didn’t say anything else, but instead walked out the front door, grateful to see Dogmeat sitting patiently next to Milou’s doghouse.

Kneeling down, she wrapped her arms around him in a big hug, trying to hold back her tears.

“You be a good boy, okay?” The lovable German barked happily as if promising. He darted out and licked up the side of her face, making her both cringe and laugh. “Ugh, you monster!” Her voice held no anger whatsoever, only mirth and a twinge of sadness. At least here he would be safe, and that was a comfort.

MacCready strolled out of her house, closing the door behind him. “You ready?” Back in his trench coat, he had the look of a sharpshooting merc again, but now that she’s spent some time with him, she couldn’t bring herself to see him as any sort of dangerous.

Giving Dogmeat a final scratch behind the ears, she stood and led them down the main road, where they seemed to have drawn the attention of Preston and the few settlers who had just awoken.

“Where are we off to?” MacCready asked softly, keeping his voice low so their conversation stayed between _them_. Normally she would have picked up another mission from Preston before leaving, but she was taking a hiatus, she decided.

“I’m not sure,” she muttered, watching Preston watching her from the corner of her eye. “But wherever we go, it’ll probably be an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I was down to the wire again. This is hopefully the LAST chapter of set up before the story really kicks off, so thank you for bearing with me. Please feel free to drop a comment letting me know what you though: comments seriously make my day ;)


	9. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryleen and MacCready discover a new location, and they aren't the only ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this project, I swear. I'm sorry for the long delay in the release of this chapter, but I am still working on this story.

Their so-called adventure began with thick clouds blotting out the sun and an excursion south to Sunshine Tidings Co-op to repair their water pumps. A recent Raider attack had caused quite a bit of damage, so Bryleen decided to offer her help. 

“No offense, but these settlers can’t do crap,” MacCready chuckled on their way, and Bryleen didn’t bother to hide the little snicker that bubbled out of her.

“I think you’re right.” Of course he was _completely_ right, though it made little sense why that was the reality. “You’d think that growing up in the wasteland, they’d know more about surviving.” Honestly, most settlers had the survival skills of a domesticated gerbil.

“Guess things were different in the vault.” Disdain hid beneath the surface of his voice when he mentioned the word vault yet again, bringing up her earlier pondering if he had something against vault dwellers. Not for the first time, she wished that she could just tell someone that she _wasn’t_ really from a vault, but that was much easier to take than the truth. Sure some people looked at her strangely in her vault suit, but most people were at least used to the idea of vault dwellers; the idea of what was essentially a time traveler would probably not go over too well. 

“You have no idea,” she sighed, a little on the heavy side. “At least vault dwellers know how to work together, which is more than I could say for most wastelanders.” She only had Vault 81 to draw knowledge from, and she was banking on him not knowing too much about vaults. Out of the six vaults in the Commonwealth, only 81 had had residents; all the rest had died out long ago.

“Wouldn’t know. I don’t usually make it a habit to go snooping around vaults.” Oh, she’d definitely struck a chord with her talk about vaults, but the question was whether or not to bring it up now or save it for later. The way his thick brows knit together told her it was a conversation best saved for later.

“Someday you should at least see Vault 81. They’re good people.” After the mole rat debacle, they’d been slowly working on refurbishing the previously unusable sections of the vault into more homes and businesses. With resources from her they were making very good progress, and under Overseer McNamara, Bryleen was quite hopeful that the vault would have a bright future.

Luckily, there were enough of the necessary supplies and the pumps weren’t too difficult to fix, just a little time consuming; it might have taken twice as long if MacCready hadn’t been there to pass her tools. Working steadily had eliminated the need to talk, but that suited her just fine at the moment. That they could work together in quiet moments was actually very important to her, and MacCready seemed to be a very quick study.

It was pretty obvious to MacCready that these settlers left her alone aside from the passing greeting or comment, and without the presence of a certain Minuteman, it wasn’t a bad place to be. Places this nice and actually thriving weren’t commonplace in the Capital wastes any more than people like her were; MacCready wondered how she’d managed to successfully make so many of them. After she’d checked everything enough to satisfy herself, Bryleen and MacCready began to head west, closer towards the edge of the Commonwealth.

Her face was much too determined for him to accept that they were randomly wandering, but since she hadn’t said anything, MacCready was left to follow behind her. Like the previous day, he had to focus hard on not staring at her backside, which was easier said than done when she was back in her skin tight vault suit. For his peace of mind and the sake of their professional relationship, MacCready sped up a little to walk by her side.

Bryleen’s focus was fixed on her Pip-Boy and her fingers were busy working on the knobs and buttons. Distracted as she was, MacCready was sure that she’d trip or stumble, but he was very wrong. As graceful as a Radstag doe she maneuvered around rocks and plants, sidestepping or hopping over obstacles without ever looking up. At the rate they were going, they could probably make it halfway to the Capital before she even noticed.

At the top of a small hill was where she finally stopped so quickly that MacCready had already started down before he even noticed that she wasn’t by his side. He looked behind him up at here just in time to see her ruddy brows mesh together in frustration and her lips pull back over her teeth in a grimace as she growled in frustration. With the heel of her hand Bryleen started to smack her Pip-Boy so hard that he feared she might break it.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re gonna break your little toy.” Her mossy eyes rolled with the barest hint of annoyance, which he had a feeling wasn’t really directed at him. She ripped her cap off her head and tucked it under her arm, running her free hand roughly through her hair.

“Joke’s on you, it’s already busted.” Bryleen grumbled, lifting her arm in a vain attempt to work out the wacky frequencies, failing just as she expected to. “A little percussive maintenance couldn’t hurt.” Smacking it a few more times, the results were the same as before. With her shoulders slack with defeat, Bryleen started making her way down towards him.

“What’s wrong with the thing?” He asked as she passed him. Normally he wasn’t one to care too much about other’s problems, but she’d been pretty nice to him and he couldn’t treat that with indifference.

“I’m picking up a signal from Nuka-World, but nothing’s coming through, just static.” Bryleen held her arm in front of him so he could see what she was talking about. Sure enough, every other radio station and signal her Pip-Boy was picking up played clearly over the small speakers, but all that came from Nuka-World was silence.

“You know, I’m not a whiz with all this science stuff, but a second pair of eyes couldn’t hurt.” After the words came out, he wished he hadn’t said them. The first and last time he’d offered help to a Gunner, they’d accused him of calling a superior stupid and left him with a cracked rib. As the seconds ticked by, he waited for anger or offense to register on Bryleen’s pretty face; instead, she gave her shoulders a shrug and walked back to him.

“Knock yourself out.” She unbuckled the little machine from her wrist, handing it over without another word. _Too much trust in strangers_ , MacCready thought wryly. If he’d been less mannered than he was, he could have just run away with her Pip-Boy and made a small fortune selling it. On the other hand though, he’d seen enough of her shooting to know that he probably wouldn’t get too far. So maybe trust had nothing to do with her actions at all, but either way, he began messing around with the knobs and dials.

With him busy, Bryleen slipped off her colossal bag for some over-due stretches. Normally after taking a hit like she had at Oberland, she would spend the next several days stretching and conditioning the new skin growth. These new patches of skin and muscle were always so taut and sometimes painful if she over used them before she’d worked on loosening them up. Her hands raised to the sky like delicate vines searching for the sunlight before she gently bent to each side. The deeper she sank into the stretches, the more little sighs fell from her lips from the relief washing over her. Pleasure had her eyes gently drifting closed. Bryleen couldn’t see the how MacCready was regarding her with such a strange look until she’d finished her stretches and opened her eyes.

The intensity of his sky blue eyes glued to her set the bottom of her stomach tingling and her head reeling with questions. Why was he looking at her like that? What the heck kind of look _was_ that? What was going through his head?

“Is something wrong?” She looked down, trying to see if maybe she had something on her that would warrant his stares. Maybe she’d gotten oil on her from the repairs, or maybe she hadn’t been able to wash out all the blood from yesterday. Her search was absolutely fruitless. A question was on the tip of her tongue when MacCready shook his head.

“No.” His voice was soft with almost a dazed quality. “No, nothing’s wrong. Your little doodad seems to be working just fine.” He handed it back to her, drawing back when their fingers accidently grazed each other. “Someone probably left a transmitter on somewhere and your Pip-Boy is just picking it up.” That possibility had rolled around in her head for a while now, but she’d hoped that wasn’t really the case.

“Damn. The last time I picked up a signal like that I ended up finding a whole island.” There was no hiding how crestfallen she was. Boston had once seemed so vast and full of opportunities, but after searching every nook and cranny of the Commonwealth, the awe factor had lost its shiny newness.

“An island? Are you talking about that one you can see from Poseidon Energy?” Dread clenched her stomach hearing that the Gunners knew of Spectacle Island, but she refused to let it show on her face.

“Uhm, no. I was talking about Far Harbor, way north of here.” Had the Gunners set their eyes on her home? “That other island, have you been there?”

“No, never have. Spotted it a couple times when I was scouting, but the Gunners always said it was a waste of time because it was so far.” Relief felt so sweet, hearing his words. She pulled her bag back on and started up walking again. “The first time I asked them about that island, my commander said ‘Why the fuck would we move all our shit to an island when we have the Plaza right here? No one’s stupid enough to attack us here’.” A hideous blush blossomed its way all over her face, and she marveled that her hat didn’t catch on fire from the heat of her head.

“Well they were mostly right,” Bryleen admitted in a hushed voice. MacCready took in the sight of her crimson face and nearly choked on his laughter.

“Yeah, no one but _you_ was crazy enough to try.” No one but this crazy pint-sized General who _looked_ like she couldn’t scare a Radstag if she tried. And if memory served right, she hadn’t just _tried_ to take Gunner’s Plaza, she’d succeeded. Reports were circling around for weeks about how the fierce General of the Minutemen had completely obliterated a hefty chunk of the officers that made the Plaza their home base. Higher-ups from all the local Gunner groups had taken several days to acquire a huge cache of weapons so they were armed to the teeth to take back the Plaza, but when they’d gotten there, there was no one. They thought for sure that the General had sacked their headquarters to use as a Minuteman base, but she’d been there and gone in the blink of an eye as if it had meant nothing to her.

Her complete and utter unpredictability had left the Gunners dumbfounded at every twist and turn; maybe that was why the price on her head was so high. With very little effort at all, she’d made the Gunners look like fools. Their fight with her was personal now, but she had one card up her sleeve that was her saving grace; the Gunners had no idea who she was, let alone that she was even a woman to begin with.

“You really kept them busy.” Likely still did, but he wouldn’t have access to that information after he’d severed ties with the Gunners. The bulletin boards holding their bounties and target locations most Gunner locations had flashed through his head. _Minuteman General: 1,000 caps alive or dead_. Any other merc wouldn’t hesitate to drag her to the nearest Gunner outpost and collect that reward. “Listen, I need to tell you something.” If someone knew there was a price on his head, he’d sure as heck want to know, so it seemed like the right thing to tell her.

“What’s that?”

“The Gunners have a price on your head.” The words tasted sour coming out, but he needed to tell her. The blush died down from her face, yet didn’t go ashen like he expected.

“How much?” He was watching to see how the news registered to her, but her face remained neutral, cool as a spring breeze.

“A thousand caps.” Just thinking of the pile of caps that would be almost made his mouth water, but he wasn’t in the business of sacrificing good people for his own gain anymore. Never again. Bryleen’s sober expression dissolved into mirth, and her breath came out in little chuckles. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting at all.

“That’s it?” She sounded equal parts amused and offended. “I thought I’d actually have to start watching my back.” God, this woman. Either she cared so little for her safety or she was certifiably insane. Staring at her in that moment, MacCready knew she was a certifiable heart attack waiting to happen.

“It doesn’t concern you? All those caps make you one of the biggest targets in the ‘Wealth.” One of the biggest in his history with the Gunners.

While it was an appealing heap of money, Bryleen let her concern roll off her. The odd concern clouding his face sat heavy in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to let fear take over.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m not too concerned. Any merc who’d bother with a thousand cap bounty isn’t skilled enough for me to worry about.” Even to her ears it sounded convincing. It was, in a roundabout way, mostly true; she was a seasoned fighter now, and the thousand cap bounty would attract anyone who could hold a gun. Anyone with enough skill to really give her a run for her money wouldn’t be so easily swayed by that amount of money.

The words could have been taken as arrogance or egoism, but MacCready couldn’t hear any trace of that in her gentle voice. Yes, she was proud of her skill, but justifiably so based on her performances so far; it was hard to reconcile the delicate looking woman with the deadly potential that laid within, but looks could definitely be deceiving.

“I guess you’ve got it all figured out.” If he had half of her natural confidence, he reckoned he would feel darn near bullet proof.

A dimpled half-smile came his way, and paired with the mischievous glint in her mossy eyes, MacCready felt some dangerous emotions stirring up somewhere in the vicinity of where his heart used to be.

The farther west they walked, the thicker the fog grew, muggy and thick like a wet blanket settling over them. They stayed side by side, accidentally drifting closer as the fog cut of more and more of their vision. Neither MacCready nor Bryleen had noticed how close they’d gotten until they brushed shoulders. Bryleen wanted to draw back out of instinct, but stopped herself; she felt much safer next to him than she did out in the open alone.

She’d fought hundreds of enemies by herself all over the Commonwealth, but knowing now that there was someone to help in the tough situations made her almost weak with long-overdue relief. It amazed her how she could be strong as iron when she was alone but the minute she took up a companion, she turned soft. _Much more like my normal self_ , her conscience whispered. Ever since thawing, she’d felt lost and torn between her prewar identity and the new façade she’d had to create to survive the brutal nature of the new Boston. Perhaps this was what she needed to reclaim herself. 

When they’d reached what her Pip-Boy said was the edge of the map of the Commonwealth, she nearly skid to a stop, throwing her arm out to stop MacCready as well. Heat from his chest soaked into her hand, and they both stared where they were connected until she dropped her hand back to her side with a soft chuckle.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Peering in to the haze, MacCready almost wanted to ask what the heck she was talking about, but in the smallest break in the fog he could see what caught her eye.

“If you think you’re seeing a twenty-five-foot tall Nuka-Cola bottle, I’d have to agree with you.” The closer they got, the larger it grew until they stood at the base of it, staring up at the mammoth structure.

“Looks more like thirty if you ask me,” Bryleen mused as she took in the sight. Just down the road a little ways stood another one, so she kept walking, following what she could see of the road until bright lights cut through the fog. Excitement roiled in her stomach and made her arms break out in goosebumps. 

“Nuka-World Transit Station.” MacCready read out quietly after getting close enough to make out the words. Bright red with the iconic white winding writing completely confirmed to her mind that this was most certainly a place made by Nuka-Cola Corporation. Wanting a closer look, she crouched down and was just beginning to edge forward when a voice called out.

“No one investigates that signal until this place is secure.” It was a woman’s voice, and she sounded like she was in charge. Bryleen felt herself ripped back by her backpack, falling on her butt behind a car. Casting a panicked look over her shoulder, MacCready held a finger to his lips signaling her to stay quiet. “If I see anyone violate protocol and enter that transit station before we’re set, I’ll have your head.” The last words were snarled, and Bryleen had a feeling the woman would make good on her threat. “Now pick up the pace! I wanna be able to report back to Cypress ASAP,” she barked out, and silence fell once more. Safely hidden, Bryleen got back to her knees and rubbed the soreness from her backside.

“Sorry about that.” MacCready’s whispered apology wasn’t completely necessary, but she still nodded to him.

“Are they Gunners?” From the way the leader was talking, they sounded too organized to be garden variety Raiders; Raiders didn’t bother with protocols or reporting when they raided, so that left few other options. He looked like he was scouring his brain for information and after about half a minute something seemed to click.

“Yeah, I think they are. They aren’t from this area, I don’t think. I remember hearing the name Cypress before; he’s some Colonel from a branch closer to the Capital Wastes.” It didn’t make much sense why this crew were all the way out here, but wondering didn’t solve the problem at hand. Was whatever the Gunners were after worth the fight?

“Can’t be too many of them.” She was far too curious to let this opportunity go by, and with the fog they had a good chance of staying hidden.

“You lead, I’ll follow; that was the agreement right?” Camaraderie gave her an upshot of energy, enough to ready herself for the fight that was sure to come. She was almost tempted to break out her shot gun, but for the sake of sneaking chose to carry her 10mm pistol.

They snuck through the main entry to the right side, staying low even with the fog coverage. About fifteen feet in front of them was a building they could use for cover, so she raced behind it, pleased to see that MacCready stayed as close and as quiet as a shadow as they crept along the side. Their sneaking approach was abruptly cut short by the mechanical sounds of an Assaultron barreling towards them.

“Duck!” Was all she could manage to scream as she pushed him out of the way of an incoming laser blast. The beam charred the wall behind where MacCready had been standing, sending sparks cascading down her side. Luckily, the heat wasn’t enough to scorch her suit, but that was where the luck ran dry; her scream or the sound of the attack had alerted the Gunners in the area, and soon there were several Gunners descending on them like a swarm of Radroaches.

With her shotgun, she took down three of them fairly efficiently, but the Assaultron was determined to be a thorn in her side, even with MacCready expertly shooting away at it. The leader had stayed at a distance, waiting for her underlings to dispatch the intruders, but as each of them fell, Bryleen could see the absolute frustration on the woman’s face.

“Whoa, watch it!” MacCready called out to her at the exact moment she was knocked off her feet by a blast to her chest. Damn it, she’d been so distracted looking at the leader that the Assaultron had gotten too close for comfort. Rocks dug roughly into her already sore butt, making her anger flare red-hot and potent. Swinging the shotgun around, Bryleen fired and fired and fired again until the automaton was nothing more than a hot pile of metal at her feet.

“Come on you bitch!” The Gunner came running at her with what looked to be a modified combat rifle, hell bent on doing some damage. Bryleen took one more shot to the chest plate as she tried to stand up, but once she was on her feet, she was as unstoppable as a force of nature. With the two shots left in her shotgun, she managed to wound the Gunner, but they were too close together for her to reload safely, so Bryleen switched to her pistol and delivered the kill shot with a precision that was at once enviable and terrifying.

With the dust and fog settling around them, Bryleen knelt down and huffed for breath, feeling a bruised tenderness behind her chest plate where she’s taken the hits. Hell, she knew that whenever she stripped next she would see some lovely bruises across her breasts and possibly her ribs, but it wasn’t quite painful enough to waste a stim on. MacCready made his way through the bodies and the rubble to her side, eyeing her with deep concern.

“Hey, Boss, you okay?” His free hand reached out to her, stopping just before he touched her. Seeing her being shot at and taking hits like she did had made him more than a little anxious. He’d seen first-hand what could when small women like this faced off against many enemies, and in the back of his mind, he had expected her to share the same fate. MacCready couldn’t even begin describe his relief when she’d lived through the onslaught relatively unharmed, but his concern didn’t sit too well with him.

“I’ll be… fine…” Air burned her lungs, but she forced herself to take it in as deeply as she could without triggering a painful coughing fit. _Note to me, add more padding to the chest plate_. After about ten or so deep breaths, she raised back up and started to look around the now-cleared transit center. “Those combat rifles pack one hell of a punch.”

“You don’t say?” He teased her, keeping his tone light as he continued to watch her carefully for any signs that she was more seriously hurt than she was letting on. What the little General lacked in height, she more than made up for in grit and skill. Even with all the differences that were so glaringly obvious to his eyes, his mind couldn’t help but remember another woman, from another time. _She isn’t her,_ MacCready forced the thought through his head. _She isn’t anything like Lucy_.

In her own mind, Bryleen was trying to piece together the reason that the Gunners would be investigating this transit station. The likelihood of the train still working was slim at best, but once again, what would the Gunners want with a rundown amusement park?

Carefully making her way through the bodies, she found what remained of the leader’s body, avoiding getting too close a look at the space where the head had once been. After all this time the sight of dismembered bodies made her nauseous in the pit of her stomach.

In the front pocket of the Gunner’s pants was a note that read:

_Commander Kaylor,_

_Your orders are to investigate the Nuka-Cola Family Radio signal that appeared today. Our intel has determined it's coming from the Nuka-World Transit Center, and we've reason to believe it may be linked to Sergeant Lanier's missing recon team. Your primary objective is to secure the surrounding location and report back to me. You'll then receive further instructions based on your status report._

_\- Colonel Cypress_

“Looks like they were following up on a missing recon team,” Bryleen filled MacCready in on what she’d just read. He held out his hand for the note, and she handed it over without a pause. MacCready scanned it quickly and gave it back, but his eyebrows stayed knit together in puzzlement. “What’s on your mind?” 

“For a Colonel to not only send a recon team here, but also a second one after them when they’d lost contact could only mean that they were after something pretty valuable.” During his time with the Gunners, there had only been a handful of times that they’d even bothered to send in a second team; usually if the first team lost contact, command would assume they’d been slaughtered and cut their losses. On the occasions where they’d sent in a second team, no one bothered to involve anyone higher than a Lieutenant or Captain, and this order came from a Colonel.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll take a look in the station, and if we don’t find anything we’ll just leave it be.” Curiosity was absolutely killing her, but she was nothing if not reasonable, so she held out her hand, not moving until he either accepted or rejected her deal.

Maybe it was her earnest eyes or the eager way she’d held her hand out, but there was no fighting with her over the issue. Not that he really wanted to deny her, but her whole look and demeanor made it impossible for him to even try.

“Sure, I’ll take that deal,” he agreed, taking her soft hand in his once more. If anything started going screwy, he promised himself that he’d get the heck out of there; no amount of caps was worth dying for when he had a world of responsibility riding on his shoulders. When he released her hand, he only loosened his, allowing her to pull away at her own pace. Bryleen waiting for half a heartbeat before taking her hand away, letting the smooth tips graze against the callouses that peppered his palm.

“Alright, let’s head inside.” Her breath hitched gently, almost giving her words a breathy quality when she tried to hide it. Ignoring the possible reason for that, Bryleen remained silent until they reached red doors of the entrance to the transit center itself. What had the Gunners been after? What had she and MacCready killed for?

“We doing this?” Those deep blues were giving her an out, but also told her he’d follow her no matter what her choice was. It was too much temptation to leave now, so she nodded hesitantly, taking the handle.

“Let’s go,” she gulped, opening the door to what laid ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty bogged down lately, and it's been a little hard to get the motivation to keep up with posting. If you're still with me on this, thank you for bearing with me, and hang in there for continuing chapters.
> 
> If you liked this, please leave kudos or a comment (comments are author fuel), and as always I hope you enjoyed it.


	10. Destination Unknown

The first look inside of the transit center was much like any other she’d walked into in the Commonwealth. That in and of itself was honestly quite surprising. She’d expected anything associated with Nuka-Cola to be completely ostentatious, but then again, they were only at the top of the stairs, so she reserved full judgement until she’d seen the rest.

“Stay low,” Bryleen whispered to MacCready as she stooped into a low crouch. If there was someone down there, she wanted as little of her body to be exposed as possible. “You take the left, I’ll take right.” It was hard to manage the stairs, crouched as she was with her shotgun aimed in front of her, but she still managed to go down quiet as a mouse.

An overhead light illuminated the bottom of the stairs, but before they were all the way down, they could hear a soft, moaning voice.

“Jesus. Shit. They’re gonna die.” The words were punctuated by gasping breaths, like the person speaking was injured. Bryleen had to furiously tamp down her urge to immediately run in and help. Knowing her luck, this was some sort of ambush and she’d be damned if she ran headlong into it. 

When they got close enough to see the man, Bryleen motioned for MacCready to sweep his side. If there was someone else here, she was going to know about it sooner rather than later. As the stairs gave way to the large station, Bryleen popped up, rounding the corner like she was prepared to fight. MacCready did much the same on his side, and together they did a thorough sweep of the ruble, meeting back in the middle.

“Nothing here, Boss.” Those sharp blue eyes still scanned the area as though there _might_ be something in there with them. Drawing his gaze back to her, she motioned back to the man lying close to the entrance.

“Just watch my back. Please.” The man in question was propped against a heap of ruble, holding onto his middle. No doubt that was the source of his pain, but she couldn’t see any blood or anything. Cautiously, Bryleen knelt in front of him, scanning him for any other obvious injury. “What happened to you?” If there were no signs of others or a struggle in the transit center, how had he managed to end up injured and alone down there?

“Raiders, that’s what,” he gasped, gritting his teeth against his pain. “Those bastards have my family. You… you gotta help me. Please.” His words caught in her heart, playing on the raw emotions from losing her own family, but she refused to let herself be taken in by his story just yet.

“Are you okay?” A closer look of his injuries could give her a better idea what they were facing, but when she leaned in to move his hand, he pulled away, pressing his hand more protectively over where he was likely wounded. 

“Hell, I’ve seen better days, but it’s my family I’m really worried about. Once those Raiders realize I’m gone…” A deep shudder wracked his ragged body at the thought. “I don’t even want to think about what they’ll do to them. God, you’ve got to help me.” Raiders were known for being pretty grizzly to their captives, and a cold sweat broke out across her spine as images of the things she’d seen passed before her eyes.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, allowing her voice to take a soft and concerned tone. 

“They fooled us… big time,” he choked out bitterly. “My family and I ran into some traders a while back… told us they knew a safe settlement… at Nuka-World. But when we got there…Found out they were Raiders the whole time, just stringing us along.” It was a pretty common tactic among Raider; pretending to be traders or settlers in need of help to lure in innocent victims. It was utterly barbaric to her, but it was just a fact of life in the Commonwealth. “I managed to escape, but my wife and son are stuck back there. I wanted to get some help and go back for them, but didn’t count on taking a bullet.” _Bullet_? She’d been completely right to hold back her instincts.

“Let me help you first. I have a stimpak.” MacCready made a scoff of disgust, but Bryleen didn’t hesitate for a moment, bringing out a stim from her bag, ready to inject the stranger, but once again, he shied away from her aid.

“No, no… I’ll be fine. Save it for my wife and kid, for Lisa and Cody.” No sane person suffering from a bullet wound would pass up a free stim.

“No really. I have enough. Take it.” Her cajoling voice made the stranger visibly nervous, as did the fact that she was edging closer and closer to him with the ready stim. After a couple more scoots forward, the man finally heaved a sigh before jumping to his feet and backing away from her.

“Damn it. Look… you got me. I ain’t injured, okay? I just can’t do this anymore. The Raiders back in Nuka-World put me up to this.” His voice sounded so aged, weary, and worn like the Commonwealth itself. “They lure people in and the kill ‘em for fun, and I’m done doing their dirty work. Let ‘em find me and do what they want.” Slipping the stim back into her bag, Bryleen stood up and sighed, fixing her disapproving gaze on him.

“Why do you help them?” Her words were firm and all traces of her kindness had evaporated. ‘Nora’ slipped back beneath the surface, and the ‘General’ took over once more.

“Besides not wanting to die, I’m not the only one they got stuck under their thumb. If I don’t pull through, their lives are at stake just like mine. I figure that one stranger’s life compared to those of people I know and care about…” The man looked like he wanted to hang his head in shame for his actions, but he stubbornly held it high. It was a hell of a situation, Bryleen knew, but he had at least some measure of pride that he was saving those he cared about.

“Sounds like typical Raiders to me.” She took a gamble on whether or not her words would piss him off, but she needed to probe for more information. The expression on his face grew dark with fear, his pupils dilating wide with anxiety.

“You don’t get it. These Raiders are different. They make Commonwealth Raiders look like a bunch of kids.” Having watched him very closely, she could tell that his fear was genuine; he had seen things that had burned their way into his mind, haunting him like waking nightmares. If they really were as dangerous as he claimed they were, there was only one option.

“Let me help,” she offered quietly, mildly regretting every word she was saying. “I’ll go face them. You don’t have to die.” Why had she been cursed with such a strong conscience? Who else but her would bother to help a man who tried to lead them to their death?

“Are you… you’re serious?” _As the grave_ , she wanted to say. “Just be warned, this ain’t no walk in the park. Here, take this.” He pulled a dingy, folded up paper from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it over to her. “It’s the password to the monorail control terminal. The fastest way to get to Nuka-World is to take the Nuka-Express, but I shut it down to help sell my story. Makes it more believable if I say I’m trying to keep the Raiders at bay.” A little shame did kick in them, making his cheeks flush with the reminder of what he’d tried to do. Clearing his throat, he gave a little wave over his left. “Find the control terminal in the office to power it back up… and once you’re on your way, be careful.” They all stood in silence for a few seconds before the man edged his way around Bryleen and headed up the stairs without another word or glance behind.

Password in hand, Bryleen headed back over to the terminal she’d seen during her sweep. This was _definitely_ one of the worst choices that she’d ever made, but curiosity and concern pushed her onward. What could be out at the park after two hundred years? There was no way anything could be running, right?

The computer was dimly lit by candlelight, but it was just enough for her to be able to type the password in. It had crossed her mind that the man might have given her a fake or decoy password, she almost hoped he had, but the computer began to successfully display data, dashing her hopes.

“Monorail Schedule, Power Grid Management, Maintenance Requests, Employee Notifications.” She read the fields out loud, before ignoring the useless info and accessing the power grid. Her eyes skimmed the details of what power was on. “Auxiliary power?” There was no description of any sort, but honestly, if she was going to activate a link from the Commonwealth to reportedly blood-thirsty Raiders, what could it hurt? As soon as she clicked that option, the station lights all turned on, showering her in their obnoxious fluorescent light. An automated safety message began blaring over the intercom, but that was easy enough to tune out. Now what to do about the rail power?

The neon green selection bar highlighted the option, but she hesitated to push the enter key. All she had to go off of was one man’s testimony on what was out there, but could he be trusted at all? She could be marching straight to her death for all she knew. Was this wise in any way, shape, or form?

“You’re seriously going through with this?” Her heart jumped into her throat as she gasped, caught off guard by MacCready’s words. Damn, she’d forgotten he was there again. He was leaning in the doorway wearing a decidedly unpleased expression.

“Right now I’m not actually sure.” Looking from the monitor, back to MacCready, then back to the monitor, Bryleen just couldn’t make a decision. She backed away from the computer, taking off her cap so that she could run her fingers through her hair. Did anyone else have to deal with crap like this, or was it just her _stellar_ luck?

“Honestly, I don’t know why you’re even considering it; you don’t owe that guy anything.” Fair point. In her heart, she knew that he was right; she didn’t owe the stranger a single thing, but it wasn’t just him involved.

“It’s hard to explain, MacCready,” she growled softly in her frustration. “I _know_ there’s a risk. I’m not blind. Most people would be packing it up already, leaving this place behind like it was just a bad dream, but I can’t; not when I know there are others…” Bryleen trailed off, unwilling to let her mind imagine what might be happening to those people. It was archaic by Commonwealth standards, but her belief that she needed to help others was a deep wound carved into her bleeding heart.

MacCready walked closer until her was hardly a foot away, pinning her down with his gaze. Sky blue searched mossy green, reading every single micro-expression, until he finally closed his eyes with a sigh. Once he broke eye-contact, Bryleen was able to suck in a shaky breath, unaware that she’d even been holding it to begin with.

“Robin Hood.” The wry chuckle that followed didn’t give her much hope. Asking him to come with her was unfair and a huge risk for him. From the start of her stint as the General, she swore she’d never ask more of her people than she herself was willing to give; she’d also vowed that she would try to give people a choice where she could afford it.

“You don’t have to come,” She blurted out. “We can break our agreement right here and now, no hard feelings. No consequences.” Giving him a clean out was the best thing she could do for him; Bryleen couldn’t decide if she was _hoping_ he’d take her up on her offer, or if she was dreading that thought. Either way, she would rest easy knowing that it was his choice.

MacCready’s eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief, though he remained silent. He was churning the idea in his head, weighing every pro and con meticulously. Most people in the Wealth were impulsive, living their lives one rushed decision after another, but not him, and Bryleen admired that about him.

“So you’re saying, I can walk out of here right now with these caps and you won’t hunt me down or anything?” For mercs, there was no quitting until the job was done. If you got paid to snub somebody, you didn’t rest until the target was dead. Got paid to escort a caravan, you didn’t relax until they were safe at their destination. She’s paid him good caps to watch her back, and he hadn’t fulfilled his end of the deal long enough to cover the payment. Why would she let him off so easily?

“No, I won’t. If you leave now, you keep your caps and I won’t retaliate, I promise.” The softness in her voice threw him off for a moment, and he couldn’t help but pick her words apart, trying to find some deeper meaning or a trace of a lie, but he couldn’t. Her words were just as true and gentle as last night when she’d been absolutely plastered, but he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. No one was that nice. People like that just didn’t exist in this world.

“Why?” That was the million cap question, and one that he would dearly loved to know the answer to.

Try as she might, there wasn’t a completely cut and dry answer to that. Yes, it was mostly about wanting him to have a choice, but that answer only went so far. If it was anyone else, she would have asked for a large portion of the caps back, allowing them to keep only what they’d earned, but he was different. Why he was, she didn’t _want_ to think about, even though the thought had already burrowed inside her brain like a mole rat infestation. No, she would not think about how she’d opened up with him the night before, or the way the roaming of his sky-blue eyes made her feel. She was the General of the Minutemen for Pete’s sake.

“I give all the men and women who work for me a choice.” A coolness cloaked her words, giving her some confidence as she was able to put a little distance between them again. “I won’t ask any more or less of you than I’m willing to give, and I know that this is a huge risk. If I have my doubts about going forward with this, I’m sure you do to, so I’m letting you chose.” Logic and reason were loud and clear in her voice, blessedly masking the inner emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

“You’re right, this is really dangerous, and probably pretty stupid,” he muttered sharply. It was a hard thing not to be crestfallen over his decision, but she’d promised herself he’d honor his decision one way or the other.

“It was good to meet you MacCready.” Politely, she offered her hand to him for the last time to seal their deal breaking, but he only stared at it hanging between them. He looked about as confused as she felt, which caught her off guard. What was he doing?

“I may regret this later, but no matter what, I still owe you.” Pride shimmered just behind the trepidation in his eyes, and she could see how much completing a job meant to him. _An ex-Gunner with a sense of pride_. “Put that away,” he sighed as he pushed her hand down. “I’m not done with you yet.” She knew exactly what he’d meant, but her heart decided to ramp up with the possibilities of what his words _could_ have meant. Blush followed her spiked heart rate and she managed to turn away from him and back to the computer just before it completely took over her face.

“If you have any doubts, this is your last chance to say something.” One elegant finger lay poised over the enter button, but she couldn’t bring herself to hit it. Footsteps approached from behind her until she felt him right behind her, pressing softly into her backpack. If her heart felt like it was racing before, now it was threatening to explode. His work-worn hand snaked around her side, the fingertips barely an inch from her arm, following it down until his hand lay over hers. Very carefully, he covered each of her fingers with his own.

“I try not to second guess myself.” MacCready almost whispered into her ear, bringing out goosebumps all along her body. With just the slightest pressure, he pushed her index finger down onto the enter key, bringing the monorail to life. Bryleen slid her hand out from under his, memorizing the drag of his callous-roughened palm again as it unintentionally caressed her.

“If that’s the case, then let’s get to it.” Using the excuse of work was her MO, but she didn’t want to touch those feelings with a ten foot pole, so any excuse would have done to get away from him. There was only so far she could get away from him though; they’d have to use the monorail together, and there didn’t seem to be a wealth of space inside.

The rickety looking transport looked like it had seen better days, better decades was more like it, but it would take them probably a good two or three weeks to get there on foot; she probably couldn’t afford to wait that long. Her body might not have weighed that much, but her back pack weighed about as much as a whole other person.

Stepping into the railcar, Bryleen wanted to be as careful as she could be, but if this thing was going to fall off the rail, it was best that it happened in the station rather than high in the air somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

“You think this thing is safe?” MacCready walked in just behind her, and she gasped as the railcar bobbed unsteadily. “That answers that question.”

“So long as we don’t jump up and down, I think we’ll be fine.” Even so, she walked with the utmost caution towards the conductor’s chair, climbing up to get a better look at the control panel. How hard could it be to start it up? Each button was clearly labeled, easily allowing her to find the way to activate it. “Grab ahold of something and say a prayer,” Bryleen called back to MacCready as she pushed the large green button. A loud metallic squeal stabbed straight through their eardrums as their car jerked into motion.

She had managed to grab ahold of the conductor’s seat before she fell over, but MacCready had used both hands to cover his ears, so he was knocked to the ground.

“Oh, God!” The scream was muffled by more squealing as they took off like a shot into the unknown. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I've been updating so irregularly, but my motivation has been down. I love to see the Kudos, so thank you all who liked it enough to give me Kudos. If you're really enjoying it, please give me a little comment; they make my day and give me a boost of motivation. I hope you're all healthy and safe!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this venture! If you'd like to drop a comment letting me know what you thought, or maybe what you'd like to see happen next. Fallout 4 is such an immersive game, and I'm sure players have locations they have a fondness for. 
> 
> BTW, I have the G.O.T.Y. Edition, so I'll take these characters to Far Harbor and Nuka World in time.


End file.
